My friend Natalia
by R. K. Iris
Summary: Matthew has his forgetfulness to thank for his best friend-Natalia. Otherwise, he'd have never met her. Big Brother Ivan has plans for her-and for Matt and his brother, Alfred. As Ivan's plans bring Nat closer to a certain brother, Nat unknowingly moves in the opposite direction. With cynicism and manipulation on either side, can Nat fall in love-or will Ivan destroy the brothers?
1. Chapter 1: It's come to this

**A/N: Hey guys! This is my first fanfiction ever, so I'm pretty nervous about going OOC...do let me know if I have. This basically came out of a picture of America and Belarus, and I had a 'What-if...' moment, but it's not completely Amebel...Do tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer - I don't own Hetalia and anything related to Hetalia...if I did, though, I'd probably be the happiest person on earth, and this would be a part of mainstream Hetalia. It's not. So I'll have to deal with it.**

* * *

My friend Natalia

Chapter 1

Natalia stood there, unable to move, unable to shake her head, unable to stop staring. The two brothers..._she _had done this. _She_ had led to all of this.

She had to stop this.

Matthew let out a roar, his upper-cut connecting with Alfred's chin. She knew he was capable of this. Only she knew. Not even his own brother knew.

Oh, why oh why had she let this happen?

"You take my strenght, you take my fame, you take my very _existence_ and put it to shame! But this time, you've gone _too_ far, brother!"

"Matthew, _shut up!_"

Alfred was the better fighter there, and even Matt's rage couldn't erase that. Al's righter smashed into his cheekbone, threw him into the wall, but that didn't stop Matt. Matt bounced right back as if the wall on his back had been a cushion, and proceeded to bloody Al's nose.

_Matthew, stop!_

But she couldn't say it. The words wouldn't come out of her mouth, _refused_ to come out.

Al blocked Matt's fist, kneed him in the chest, and gasped when Matt dragged him down with him. They grappled on the ground—Al for his life, and Matt for what was his.

_This _cannot_ get any worse!_ a small voice in her head screamed.

She heard footsteps, and her world began to spin. Without even realizing it, she slid down, face drained of all colour, head empty of any blood...She _had _to stop them before _he_ arrived.

"Matt, stop."

He didn't hear her—he was too busy pounding Al's face for what it was worth.

"Matthew, _stop!_"

Her hoarse yell got his attention, and he turned to her. Al, taking his chance, buckled under Matt, and got to his feet, crouched and ready for anything Matt decided to throw at him.

"Alfred, stop it!" she yelled, trying to get on her own two feet, but it was like trying to take the support of a walking stick made of marshmallows. She staggered, fell on one knee, and got right back up, gritting at the pain that was shooting up and down her leg. She stumbled over to Matthew, and fell beside him, helping him sit up. Holding Matt's hand, she turned to Al. "Alfred, stop it! He's your own"-

"I don't need to hear anything from _you_."

The utter contempt and disgust in his voice made her flinch. The footsteps were getting closer. She couldn't let _him_ see the brothers fighting this way. "He didn't mean to"—

"Nat, I meant every hit I threw."

Okay, wrong thing to say. He got to his feet, glaring at Alfred with rage that he'd always managed to keep inside, always managed to hide from everyone except her. She got onto her feet slower than usual, still a bit dizzy. "You two shouldn't fight like this!"

"_You're_ one to say that. What do _you_ care?"

"Yes, sister dear. What do you care?"

She froze in every sense of the word. Her blood stopped pumping and iced over. Her nerves stopped sending messages to her brain, and her brain stopped working, and her lungs frosted over, and she was unable to take any breath in, and—

"Natalia!"

Not even Matt, her dear Matt, could stop this now. She closed her eyes, and embraced the darkness as it rushed over her.

* * *

_I forgot to bring lunch today._

Matthew looked at the bag next to his. It was his brother's. He never got lunch to school. He always ate at the school cafeteria. They all loved him. They laughed at his jokes. He was always smiling. He was always surrounded by people. Those people always smiled at him.

Matt sighed. Matt really didn't care. He always brought his lunch to school. His daddy was the best. He made the most dee-lichious food in the world. But he'd forgotten to bring his daddy's dee-lichious food, and now he had to buy some.

He didn't like the cafeteria. He'd always get picked on. His brother would save him, but sometimes he'd be too late. It wasn't his fault. The people wouldn't let him go. They liked Al too much. Al had to spend time with them, not with his scrawny, pipsqueaky brother.

Matt opened the pocket inside his bag. There was no money. He'd spent it on Al, buying him ice-cream because he'd gotten first place in show-and-tell. Matt sighed. He'd have to buy the free food.

This day couldn't get any worse.

* * *

"Next!"

Matt tried to look around Katyusha, but she was bigger than he was and he couldn't see what food they were putting. He heard slopping of food, and he winced. He really didn't like the free food in this cafeteria.

"Next!"

Matt stepped forward. He was too short to see the display. He couldn't see the food they'd prepared that day. He knew it wasn't as good as his daddy's, but he was very hungry.

"Next!"

He looked up. Involuntarily, his eyes teared up, and his throat closed around his breathing pipe. He couldn't even wipe his own eyes—he was holding that tray. He looked down, like he always did, when the black ball started to grow. He'd never seen it—it was too deep in his chest. But every time someone failed to see him, or notice him, or recognize him, the little black ball started growing in his chest. It grew and grew and grew until it became too big to hide. Matt would run away then, and curl up and say a little prayer his daddy had taught him to make the black ball go away.

But he couldn't go away now. He couldn't say his prayer. He was hungry, and the cafeteria lady couldn't see him.

The tears grew too big—if he cried now—

"Natalia, move front"—

"If you speak to me like that again, Eduard, I'll dock you with this tray! Can't you see the boy in front of me?"

Matt's eyes flew open. But the girl behind him didn't stop there.

"Hey, you ugly bat, can't you see this kid?" she snapped at the cafeteria lady.

"Watch your mouth, Natalia, or I'll give your share to him!"

He heard her inhale, ready to retort, but she cut off and spew something in a language he'd never heard before.

"Yeah, yeah, batty Natty—speak your filthy Russian. It ain't gonna do me no harm. You want some, kid, you're gonna have to step right up and give me your tray."

Matt was in a daze. He held his tray up and handed it to the cafeteria lady. He couldn't believe someone had noticed him. She had seen him. She had seen that the cafeteria lady had not noticed him. She had stood up for him. She had—

"Take your tray, kid, and move out."

He held up his hand, and took the tray. He turned around to thank her—

"Next!"

He quickly moved away. he had lost his confidence. He walked fast, his eyes scanning the room for an empty table in a corner. Finding one in a corner devoid of people, he slid his plate down the table, walked across and sat down in front of his plate. It was only then he saw what the cafeteria lady had slopped onto his plate. He quickly looked around, then turned back to the plate and stuck his tongue out it disgust. He couldn't even _begin_ thinking what was on his plate. He reached out to the side, and froze.

He had forgotten to bring along his—

A plastic fork and a matching spoon slid across the table, hit his tray and stopped. He looked up.

"You forgot to take a fork and spoon, _mal'chik_. How are you planning to eat that...slop?" She screwed up her nose when she said 'slop'. He smiled.

Her frown of disgust slowly eased and, without even realizing it, she found herself smiling at him. She slid her plate down the table, and took her place opposite him. Without wasting any time, she dug into the very slop she detested. Amazed, he just stared, and watched her eat.

Feeling his blue eyes on her, she looked up. "What? You don't want me sitting here?"

Blushing at being caught, he quickly shook his head, his loose curls flying all over his head.

She smiled at him. "What's your name, _mal'chik_?"

"M-Matt."

"What? Speak up!"

His spine jolted straight at her snap. "M-M-Matthew Williams!"

She grunted, and turned back to eating her food.

He stared at his food. It was brown and looked disgusting. His daddy never made food like this. His daddy's food was the best. His daddy could never make food like this even if he tried.

"W-What's..."

"Hmm?" she looked up.

"W-What's y-your name?" he whispered.

"I can't hear you!"

"What'syourname?" he cried out in one breath, eyes squeezed shut and cheeks red.

She giggled. He opened his eyes, and let out his breath a little. He didn't even know he'd been holding it.

"Natalia Arlovskaya. I'm in your class."

"R-R-Really?"

"You sit next to that _mal'chik_...that loud boy, _da_? The one who doesn't keep quiet?"

Matthew giggled. "That's my brother."

Natalia blinked. "Really? You seem so much more..."

"Quiet?"

"Nicer."

He looked up at her, and saw her sigh with distaste, looking into the distance. "I have no tolerance for boys as loud as him. Or as rude. The _tupitsa_ was rude to my sister that day. I don't like him."

Matthew blinked this time. Everyone loved Alfred.

Natalia looked at him. "That's his name, is it? Well, I don't like him."

He didn't realize he'd spoken out loud. "I...ah..."

"You better eat your food, Matthew. You don't want lunch to get over, _da_?"

He looked at his food and grimaced. Natalia burst out laughing, catching the attention of the people sitting at the surrounding tables.

"My daddy makes better food. I forgot to bring my box today. I don't want this."

Natalia took his tray, dumped half the food into hers and handed it back. "Eat that much. You don't want to be hungry later." She toyed with her food. "I don't have a daddy."

An idea suddenly struck Matt, and he looked up. "N-Natalia, i-if I asked m-my daddy to m-make food for both of us, w-would that make you happy?"

Natalia blinked. A smile bloomed on her lips. "_Da._ I would like that."

He grinned. "Friends?"

Natalia decided she liked his grinning face. "Friends."

* * *

"Daddy! Daddydaddydaddy"—

"Papa's coming, Matt." Francis Bonnefoy walked into the room, ladle in his hand, a scolding on the tip of his tongue. But when he saw how honestly happy the boy looked, he sighed and sat down on the sofa, picked up little Matt and sat him down on his lap. "You look happy, _cher fils_."

"I made a friend today."

Francis blinked. His younger son was shy to a fault, and he was truly surprised to know he'd actually gone up to someone and—

"Her name's Natalia Arlovskaya."

Francis felt his jaw unhinge and his mouth open slightly. His son had made friends with a _girl_?

"I ate lunch with her."

Francis didn't even feel his jaw falling onto his lap. _Matthew Williams Bonnefoy ate. Lunch. With. A. Girl?!_

"But she doesn't have a daddy like you who makes her lunch. So she eats the slop the cafeteria lady gives her. Daddy, can you make her lunch?"

Francis smiled. He finally saw where this was going. But still, he had to caution his sweet, naive child. "Matt, you're asking daddy to do extra work, making lunch for a girl"—

"She's my _friend_, daddy! She stood up for me and she got me a spoon and a fork and she ate"—Matt took a big gasp of air at that. Francis laughed and put a finger on his son's lips. "Alright, _cher fils_, I'll make lunch for your Natalia."

"Yay! Thank you"—

"Alfred, for the love of God, will you stop that unholy screaming for a minute of your life and _sit down_?!"

Francis and Matt grinned. Alice Kirkland, the woman of the household, loved her husband and both her sons to bits, but when it came to Alfred's screaming, she had zero tolerance and screamed right back at him.

"And she wonders whom Alfred gets that loud voice from," Francis joked, and Matt giggled. "Alice, _mon cher_, Alfred isn't home yet!" Francis yelled over to his wife in the bedroom.

Alice emerged from the bedroom, dustpan and brush in hand. "The who the he—oh, hello Matthew."

Matthew giggled at the befuddled expression on his mother's face. "Hi, mum."

Alice turned to Francis, who was grinning widely at Alice. "Your son yelled."

Alice turned blankly to Matt. She extended her hand slowly, pointing at Matt with the brush. "_That_ son?"

"_Oui._ And this son also made a new friend. With a girl. And he—Alice! Alice!"

Francis quickly set Matt on the sofa and rushed to his wife, who'd fainted. As Francis shook his wife to consciousness, Matt called out to his father. "Daddy. Daddy!"

"Yes, Matt!"

He was distressed, but Francis also realized that Matt would never call out to him, not unless it was urgent and necessary.

"Daddy, don't tell Al about this. Please."

In his arms, Alice stirred, and Francis let go of the breath he'd been holding. He got up, swept his wife into his arms, and walked to the bedroom. He lay down his wife in bed, and pulled the covers over her. After checking around if she had everything she might need, he walked out, headed to the sofa, and kneeled next to the arm. His son scooted over to the arm of the sofa.

"You don't want Al to know about this?"

Matt shook his head vehemently. Francis could understand why, even though he didn't like the reason. Still, he didn't give his son two weeks before he himself let Alfred know about his new friend. But if his son didn't want him to tell anyone about his Natalia, then that was the way it would be.

"Aright, _cher fils_. Alfred won't know from me. And I'll tell your mama to keep our secret, alright?"

Matt nodded, and smiled sunnily. "_Merci, Père_." Francis planted a kiss in his son's soft curls and walked into the kitchen to check on their dinner.

Matt sat on the bed, exhilarating restlessness filling him.

This was going to be so much fun.

* * *

"Sister Natalia..." Shaking with fear, Ravis took the risk of knocking the door of his sister's room again.

"What is it, _duratskiy_?"

Ravis flinched. He hated it when his sister spoke like that, disgust and venom spewing from her voice. "Big Brother wants to speak to you."

Ravis heard footsteps and stepped clear out of the way. Once he'd stood right in her way, and she'd knocked him down, spewing curses as she stormed past. Even in her best moods, she didn't fail to pick on her younger brothers and make them miserable.

The door flung open, and Natalia marched out, sparing a glare for her brother on her way out. With a sigh of relief, he decided to go out and make himself scarce. He didn't want himself in the house when Big Brother decided to speak to Natalia. The fights they had were legendary.

Natalia frowned as she walked. She always frowned. Especially when Big Brother decided to talk to her. That meant arguments. She mentally prepared for the long, tedious and nerve-wracking lecture she was about to receive for something she probably hadn't even done. She didn't even bother trying to figure out what she'd done; she'd rather wait to hear it from Big Brother. She usually didn't have to wait for long before he came out with it, but he'd drop little hints here and there. Having lived with Big Brother for so long, it wouldn't take her long to discover exactly what it was he was saying.

She walked up and stood in front of his door. He was the only one in this desolate place who had his own room. The three boys shared a tiny room that held two cots joined together, a table-and-chair and two cupboards, while she shared an equally tiny room with her sister that held two cots joined together, a cupboard, a table-and-chair and a vanity table that was probably fourth- or fifth-hand. Ivan Braginsky, the oldest of the lot, had his own room.

She knocked on the door thrice, just the way he'd taught her to. "Big Brother Ivan, it is Natalia." She was always to address him like that. She couldn't throw the door open, or call him only brother, or say something incredibly stupid like, "It's me." She was always to say, "Big Brother Ivan, it is Natalia." There were rules, and breaking those rules had consequences. Natalia knew all those consequences, and had learnt them the hard way.

"Come in."

She took in a deep breath, like she always did, and opened the door just enough to let her inside, and quickly shut it behind her. Big Brother's room was the only room that had a working heater—the others had to make do with worn-out quilts and body heat. He didn't like the cold coming in.

"You called me, Big Brother Ivan." Again, another rule that had been laid.

"Yes, Natalia. You didn't have lunch with us today."

Something inside her went cold. Her brother had taught her well how to school her features, but she wasn't as good as he was—while she could maintain an expressionless face, her brother could project a face of ambiance even in cold murder. That was the strength of her brother. "Yes. It was his first time in the cafeteria, and he looked lonely."

"I see." She couldn't see her brother clearly, but could clearly hear his thoughtful hum-he always hummed when he was thinking. "Do you like him?"

The cold part of her froze, but her expression didn't falter for a second. "I don't know him well enough. He seems alright."

"He seems alright...I see. Well, that's all."

She blinked. Her expression changed to confusion, but only for a moment. Her expressionless facade came right back on, and she nodded. "I will leave now, Big Brother Ivan."

He nodded. She felt his clear dismissal, and made her way to the door.

"Natalia?"

"_Da-_Yes, Big Brother Ivan?"

"This friend of yours...do let me know more about him."

The frozen part of her grew darker and colder. "Yes, Big Brother Ivan."

"You may leave."

Natalia walked out, closed the door quickly behind her, and walked as fast as she could to her room. The floorboards creaked, and her brother would know if she was running, and she didn't want him to know she feared him. She reached her room, opened the door, shut it behind her, and dived into bed. Curling up into a ball, she wrapped the blanket around herself, and let the dark, cold part of her reach out and ask a question.

_Is Matthew Williams going to be in danger?_

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's the first chapter...you know, at this stage, I haven't even decided the name yet. If you're searching for a Natalia Arlovskaya/Belarus who keeps running to her brother for marriage, you've come to the wrong place, 'cause clearly, Ivan Braginsky/Russia is the scarier one here. The Natalia in my head isn't really like that, and I'm sorry to all those who saw the Belarus tag and went-"Okay, she's going to scare the freaking daylights out of Russia. Yay!" Well, no.**

**I'm not too clear about the ages, but Matt, Al and Nat must be in elementary school. Ivan, I think, is in high school. Francis and Alice (obviously) are married...I love BL, but I thought I'll have a Fem!UK here...makes things more interesting...hehehehe. I have eee-vil things planned out for her (okay, it's just PMS).**

**Well, I'll most probably be continuing this, so do hope for more! And let me know what you think!**

**Love, **

**R. K. Iris.**

**P.S. : Check out my profile on Fictionpress-the link's on my profile. Thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2: Just another day

**A/N: Wow, I've got a review already! Fanfiction has so many more views than FP does...bittersweetness. **

**Well, I kinda have a much clearer picture about where this is headed, and I like it (mostly because it's hot, sexy as well as slow and warm as sun-kissed honey...I made that one up. There was a bottle of honey in front of me and—okay, fine. The story's more important)**

**For all those of you who've come to see Natalia as all crazy and behind her brother...there will be a bit of crazy, but mostly since she's around Matt, it won't be shown as much as she truly is around other people. Behind her brother...no. I never understood it, and the Natalia in my head's piss-shit scared of her brother, so I don't see her running behind her brother anywhere in this fic.**

**What else? Alfred's HOT. Like, seriously HOT. If-he-was-alive-I'd-eat-him-up HOT. So, therefore, even in this fanfic, he shall be HOT.**

**Disclaimer: No, no, I don't own Hetalia. If I did, Sealand would become a mega nation and beat the hell out of England. Not happening, so...Sad. **

**And another tiny note (yeah, yeah, I'm sorry!) It's not just BelCan—it's AmeBelCan. It shows like that on the search engine, but it's AmeBelCan. Just clearing that up.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Part 1**

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 2

"Matt, where's Natalia?"

"She'll be a little late, dad!"

"What is ailing that girl now?"

"I'll tell you later, dad!"

"I demand to know right"—

"Women troubles!"

At that, all the women sitting in the restaurant turned around and glared at him. He just drew his shoulders as high as he could and rolled into the kitchen. Francis looked up from his sonic-speed vegetable chopping and clucked his tongue distastefully. "Matthew, _mon fils_, how many times must I tell you not to come into the kitchen with roller blades?"

"Dad, they're _glaring _at me!"

"Son, _I_'m glaring at you."

Honestly, at times like this, he could hit himself with the notepad he carried around. Without another word, he rolled out of the kitchen.

Even when Matt was small, Francis had been working as secondary chef under the previous owner and head chef Wang Chun-Yan. But Francis and Chun-Yan had different tastes and styles, and never really got along as co-workers, even though both had great respect for each other. Tired of their 'drama', Alice decided to buy out Chun-Yan's restaurant, and shifted from the antique's business to the restaurant industry. Alice gave the highly experienced female chef a better deal at another restaurant, and deeded the current one over in both her's and Francis' name.

Francis, extravagant extraordinaire that he was, decided to go all out and convert the restaurant pub into a family restaurant that catered to a wholly different clientele than it had under Wang Chun-Yan. He converted the dark, _night_ ambience the restaurant had to a light, morning airiness which made a complete difference to the moods and the patrons. Less fights broke out, and Francis received customers of the more polished section of people.

Matt's face brightened at the roar of the Harley Davidson that rolled into their driveway. He made his way outside, greeting and apologizing to customers as he passed them. He got outside in time to watch the biker park the Davidson and get off. The biker turned, and raised a hand in greeting.

Matt hurried over, watching as the biker took off the helmet, revealing a purple bandanna and a face full of piercings. The bandanna was unfurled, and down cascaded her long, silver-blond tresses of thick, silky hair.

"Hey, Matt," she greeted, her mouth turned down, like it usually was.

"_Bonjour_," Matt said, and grinned when she rolled her eyes. "Went biking?"

She sighed. "Some guy was about to beat the _der'mo_ out of Ravis"—

"And what did you do? Scare them with that pierced face of yours?" Clicking his tongue, Matt began unclasping the rings on her eyebrows, on her nose, and over her lips.

"They didn't even see my face. I just flipped the glass of my helmet up and glared at them. They just ran away."

Matt shook his head and dropped all the rings into her hand. "You are a trouble magnet."

She sent him a rare, sweet grin. "That's why you like me so much, don't you?"

"Hmm..." He looked at the hole she'd pierced right below her lip. He'd been right there, by her side, when she'd gotten that and all those other abominable holes pierced. He was okay with the eyebrows and nose...but her lips? "You really shouldn't wear a ring here."

Natalia looked, drowned in his intense blue eyes. He brushed his thumb over her lips thoughtfully, the calloused pad rubbing against the softness of her full lips, and her lips parted a little. He pressed the pierced hole with this thumb. Heat bloomed from the movement, and shot through her like lightning, singing her cells to jelly-mush.

His thumb rubbed against the pierced hole. Her eyes lowered, her lips parted further, and she raised her chin. Heat—

Suddenly, she caught herself, and stepped back from his touch. Matt jolted, becoming aware of just what it was that he'd done. He looked down, unable to look into her eyes, and blinked. "Nat, you dropped the rings."

Both of them bent down, but Nat looked at him and said, "Don't bother. You're wearing roller blades," she added at his confused expression. He was past the point of being hurt by her short, curt sentences, and she was past the point where she felt the need to apologize.

"Matt, Nat! _Où êtes-vous?_"

"Right here, dad! We're coming!"

Natalia picked up all the rings, and slipped them into her jacket pocket. They both walked to the restaurant, and before they entered, Matt whispered, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"You'll know soon."

"Natalie, _ma chérie! _Papa Francis is here for you!" Saying so, Francis began covering the length of floor from the kitchen to the main door.

"I told him you have lady problems"—

"You're dead, Matthew Williams. _YA tebya ub'yu_."

Matt had been around Nat long enough to know what the frequently used phrase meant. _I'm going to kill you. _

"_Ma chérie,_ come and tell Papa Francis"—

"You bearded _ublyudok_, I have my period. Now, unless you have some way of suffering my pain along with me, don't you say a _word_."

Francis blinked, arms still outstretched, as Natalia breezed past him, into the staff room. He turned back to Matt and blinked. "What just happened?"

Matt sighed and skated past his dad. "_Natalia_ happened."

Ever since Alice bought the restaurant, Matthew and Alfred had to help their father with the work. They didn't mind the work—it gave them something to do in their free time, and got them out of their mother's hair. When Natalia found out that Matt's father worked in his own restaurant, she asked if there was a spot left for her and her brothers. Curious to know about his son's friend, he welcomed them with open arms, and ever since then, Natalia, Eduardo, Ravis and Toris worked at Bonnefoy's. The extra help allowed Alfred to back out and focus on sports.

Matt loved working with his dad—his dad taught him really cool stuff at times, when the Russian siblings were waiting tables and the cashier. Sometimes, Nat joined them, just to watch Francis fool around. Other times, she just watched Francis teach his son, patiently, the nuances of French cuisine.

She envied Matt—both of them knew that, and neither of them knew that Francis knew. And Francis did everything in his power to involve the Russian siblings in everything he did. If they did something well, he ruffled all their hair—even Natalia's, even though she threatened to_ kastrirovat' _him. And if they did something wrong, they would all be scolded just as harshly.

Nat emerged, wearing purple roller skates. "Oi, Bonnefoy, are you going to cook or are the customers going to leave hungry?"

He sighed and walked back to the kitchen, unable to resist a pat to her behind as he passed her.

"Bearded pervert!"

"Cheeky brat!"

Matt sighed at the exchange of Russian and French curses. The day had now officially begun.

* * *

"Oi, Nat. Nat!"

"Shut up, Matt," she moaned, head on the table. "Or I'll kill you."

"You'll kill me, will you?" he said, imitating her accent as he sat down next to her. His failed imitations never failed to make her laugh.

She moaned and lay her head on his shoulder. "I hate periods, Matt. I hate my periods."

"Well, they're many women in the world"—

"Don't. Don't even _bother_ with the guilt trip."

"I'm just"—

"Don't."

"You could always eat a painkiller."

"I prefer moaning on your shoulder. Is there a problem?"

Matt sighed and lay his head on hers. "No."

Francis was inside with Natalia's brothers, enjoying a beer. She and Matt were taking a break. A cool breeze came in from the open door, pushing away the heat of the afternoon, cooling the sweat on their brows. Nat closed her eyes first; Matt turned his nose into her hair, and closed his eyes.

The tinkle of the doorbell jolted both of them from their siesta. Matt yawned and rolled his stiff shoulder; Nat rubbed her eyes.

"The hero's here!"

"_Vot der'mo_" Nat muttered as soon as Matt had risen and was out of earshot. After that first time, Nat was never allowed to speak harshly about Alfred—only Matt was allowed that luxury. She didn't mind—when Alfred managed to make Matt angry, he spoke with enough venom for the two of them.

Nat leaned back, watched as the brothers interacted. Matt adored Alfred, and Alfred adored Matt to a fault. He didn't want anyone hurting his younger brother, not even his own 'shady' best friend.

"Sleeping on job, Nat?"

"At least I _have_ a job, _vy mudak_."

"At least I know english."

"At least I don't behave like english is the only language in the world."

Alfred turned his nose in the air. "I know French!"

"Anything besides _Bonjour_?" At the reddening of his face, Nat just gave him a tiny smile full of triumph and walked to the kitchen.

"You could've said: _Vous êtes un imbécile_. It means"—

"Just...make me a batch of pancakes."

Matt gave him a similar smile and walked into the kitchen. Alfred removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Conversations with his brother's best friend always managed to give him a headache. He put his glasses back on, and walked to the booth. "And Matt? I'll have chocolate syrup, thanks."

He heard Nat muttering in Russian, and decided to ignore that. "Hey, bro, you wanna play catch before that dinner?"

Matt turned to Nat. "We're going over to the Vargas' for dinner."

"Oh. Have fun without me."

"He will."

Nat turned around and glared at Alfred.

Matt turned to Alfred, who was glaring right back at her. "Al...I'll play, but only if Nat's on my team."

"Chicken."

"Well, maybe I don't enjoy being slaughtered on the playing field."

"What, so you're going to hide behind Nat's apron"—

Said apron was flung at his face. "You're the one hiding, idiot."

"Guys, guys! Stop it! If you can't behave decently for a single minute, then I'm not going to speak to you."

"Let me claw his throat out, Matt, since I have to _survive_ in his presence during catch."

"Well, walk right up, babe, and I'll break those claws of yours, one by one."

Matt sighed as he passed the plate to Alfred. These two would never learn.

* * *

Matt forgot to blink, and even when he did remember, he didn't even bother. The ball was flying so fast that his eyelids had permanently stuck themselves to the roof of his eye sockets to allow his eyes to follow the ball.

Nat had an amazing arm, and all her power came from her absolute detestment of the elder Bonnefoy. Alfred wasn't afraid of giving her all he had, but if the ball so much as grazed her cheek, it would mean a dirty bar brawl, and Nat didn't mind going catty. And Matt, gentlemen personified, would kill Al with a single glare if he so much as raised an arm in the offensive.

"I'm dropping out," Matt said. Alfred's attention turned to his retreating brother, and the ball flew right into his face.

White and black stars twinkled before his eyes as he staggered back, trying to catch his balance. His mind reeled. He'd _never_ been hit in the face before, and especially not during catch. "Fuck."

"Al! Nat, go get an ice pack!"

"N-No, it's okay...Shit."

"Nat, _go_!"

Al heard footsteps running away from them. "Wait, let me see."

"Matt, I'm"—

"Don't bother with that. You're not fine."

Al pulled his arms away from in front of his face and looked up. "You never said it hurts like a bitch."

Matt smiled as he analyzed the bruise. "It'll go down. I'm giving it two days, knowing you. It'll probably fade in a week."

"Remind me never to play ball with her again."

"Well, that's the two of us."

Matt and Al looked at each other, and grinned.

"Ow."

* * *

"Ice pack, ice pack, ice pack"—

"Searching for this?"

She turned around, and froze. "What are you doing here?"

Ivan Braginsky slid the ice compress down the table. "Enjoying an early drink. This place has an amazing view, _da?_"

Her heart went cold. He'd been watching them.

"You really did a number on Jones's face, Natalia."

"He wasn't paying attention."

"Still, that's quite an arm, _da_? If I were him, I'd be wary of you."

Her head shot up, and she searched her brother's face, but she found nothing but an ambient smile and cold, cold eyes.

He got up, put a few coins down on the table, and picked up the compress. Walking up to her, he dropped the compress in her hand, and leaned over to her ear. "Enjoy it while you still can, Natalia. A lost childhood can never be found."

He straightened, said his goodbyes to Francis and walked out, leaving Natalia's heart as cold as the compress she held.

* * *

**A/N: Well, that's chapter two. I hope you enjoyed it!**

**Since my holidays are going on, I'll probably be able to update one chapter per day. I don't know, depends on what the day's like. Do let me know about your own AmeBel and BelCan fantasies, and maybe they'll pop right up, who knows?**

**My thanks to everyone who's following '**My Friend Natalia**'. I hope I haven't disappointed you. And for all those of who've read my other fanfic, '**Drowning in Green**', thanks for all the lovely reviews! I really appreciate it!**

**Gracias, and adios!**

**Cheers,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	3. Chapter 3: Meet the Oxensternia family

**A/N: Well, I was working the story out in my head, and it's taken a rather interesting turn...not sure how it'll work out in the end, though. This is one of those stories I haven't planned too far into the future—I know what the ending is, but I'm not sure how to get there. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter—I enjoyed writing it.**

**Disclaimer: No. I don't own Hetalia. The writing and the storyline's mine, though. If I did own Hetalia...the relationship between Germany and HRE would be even more uncertain. Heh. I'm evil.**

* * *

My friend Natalia

Chapter 3

Matt heard the front doorbell chime, and turned. "Welcome to—Uncle Tino! How are you?"

Tino Väinämöinen's cheery face broke into a bright grin. "Matthew Williams, my boy! How are you? How's the family?"

"We're all fine. Hey, dad! Uncle Tino's here!"

"Tino Väinämöinen, you sly fox! _Comment allez-vous_?"

"What's with the bromance?"

Matt grinned and turned to Nat. "Dad's old friend, Uncle Tino. He always got me and Alfred presents and chocolates every time he visited. Half of all of mom's scarves are gifts from Uncle Tino. He's a really nice guy."

"I want to kill nice guys everytime I see them," Nat growled, her fingers curling and flexing.

"Then how come I'm still alive?" Matt jested.

Nat gave him a coy smile. "Who says you're a nice guy?" she teased, patting his cheek.

He watched as she spun around and skated to a table to take their order. "Hey!" he called out after her. "I'm a nice guy!"

Tino watched the exchange between Matt and Nat. "Who's the girl, Bonnefoy?"

Francis turned to look. "Oh, that? That's Nat. Natalia Arlovskaya."

Tino's cheery face changed to a frown. "Arlovskaya...Russian?"

"She and her brothers work here—wait tables, help me around...Nice kids."

Tino looked at Francis with an incredulous expression. "_Nice_? Francis, she's one of the Russian siblings. She can't be"—

"She's Matt's best friend, Tino. What does that tell you about her? Or him, for that matter?" At Tino's unconvinced expression, Francis sighed. "_Mon ami,_ Matt is a shy boy, but he's very observant. He wouldn't have become friends with that girl if she wasn't a good person. Matt knows what he's doing."

"Speaking of which, I came to tell Matt—Hey Matt!Come here,_ poikaseni_!"

Matt skated over to Tino. "Yes, Uncle Tino."

"_Poika_, there's going to be a cross-district Ice Hockey match soon, and they're going to have the tryouts in a week and a half." Observing the joy on Matt's face, Tino knew he was doing the right thing. "Well, I thought you'd want to practice, so...my ice-rink's open to you, son."

* * *

Nat watched as Matt freaked out. Seeing him so happy, for some reason, made her happy, too. Seeing other people happy made her want to punch them—she didn't like cooing at babies, laughing at silly jokes...it wasn't that she didn't like having fun, it was just that she didn't see the point. Okay, cute baby, cute puppy, cute kitten—what was cooing at the damn thing going to achieve? Nothing. Nothing at all.

But Matt...there was something different about his happiness, something_ pure_, that just got to her. And even though she didn't really _achieve_ anything herself, Matt shared that achievement with her every single time.

She looked at the kitchen. Her brother was manning it, and was probably doing a poor job. She didn't trust Toris with the work, so she skated over to the kitchen. "What are you doing, Toris?" she growled.

Toris's spine snapped straight at the sound of his sister's snarl. "N-Nothing...Mr. Bonnefoy asked me to man the station"—

"Aren't you just doing a lovely"—

"Nat! Nat!"

She turned, and watched as Matt skidded to the counter. "Nat, there are ice-hockey tryouts next week, and Uncle Tino's allowing me to practice on his ice-rink!"

Nat knew how much he loved ice-hockey. "Go hit them with a puck."

He grinned, and turned to Toris. "I'm really sorry, Toris, for leaving you alone like this. Here, let me help you."

Now _that_ pissed Nat off. Matt didn't have to be exceedingly kind to everyone around. But at that thought, she just sighed. He was exceedingly kind to everyone—hell, she didn't deserve his kindness at times, yet he considered her one of his greatest and closest friends. "If you're going to"—

"Why is my kitchen crowded with you ruffians? Out, you two! Man the tables! Don't crowd poor Toris—and Toris, you're doing a great job with that! _Je suis fier de vous_!"

As Nat rolled out, Francis stole a pat on her behind. She spun around and yelled, "I'll sue you for _seksual'nyye domogatel'stva, _you _razvratnik_! I'll gut you with the very knife you hold!"

Matt, with great difficulty, pulled her aside. "Listen to me. Do you want to go ice-skating with me today evening?" She stopped her tirade and looked at him. "We can go after we close shop."

"I-I've never ice-skated before."

He laughed incredulously. "Really? Then you _have_ to come with me! Natalia, it's the best feeling in the world!"

She shook her head. "I'll come with you, but I won't skate"—

"If your worried about embarrassing yourself, you don't have to. It'll just be you and me today." He felt Natalia giving in, and he pushed. "It's a huge rink, and I'll be all alone. Please?"

_Don't look into those eyes, don't look into those eyes—_But it was impossible to deny those large, deep blue eyes anything in the world, especially when he looked at her like that. She huffed. "Fine. But if you laugh..." she hissed.

"I won't, I promise."

She sighed. "Alright. Okay. I'll come along with you."

Matt grinned. This was going to be just fine.

* * *

"Dad, I'm going with Nat to Tino's rink," Matt informed Francis while they cleaned up the kitchen

"Will you be back for dinner?"

He looked at Nat cleaning up the tables. "I don't know, dad. I'll let you know."

Francis cleared his throat, jolting Matt's attention to him. "Listen, son, Tino mentioned something about her to me..."

Nat rolled to the staff room, and changed into her normal clothes. She came out to find a smiling Matt waiting for her.

Her eye twitched. "Get that silly smile off your face, or I'll hit you."

He just smiled wider. "Oh, Nat. You're coming with me today."

"Yes, I know that."

"No—I mean, you're riding with me. On my Vespa."

Her hands twitched. "I am _not_ riding on that red scooter while I have a perfectly functioning Harley."

"I...It'll be better if we take my scooter. Trust me."

She huffed. "If it chokes"—

"I know, I know. _YA ub'yu tebya_. You go on; I need to grab something from the staffroom."

She walked to the parking lot, and looked from his Vespa to her Harley. She grimaced. Why did she have to ride on that-that...thing?

Her fingers curled. She just wanted to rip it apart, or at least paint it black. The bright, cheery, cherry red was hurting her eyes and her sensibilities.

"Who bought this?" she demanded.

He frowned a little. "Dad. Why?"

Nat sighed. That bearded pervert would've brought something like that for his son. "I don't know. Let's go before I barf."

He frowned some more. "It's cute."

"Exactly."

He just shrugged as he put on his helmet, a complementing cherry red. Nat put her helmet on the seat, removed her bandanna, and tied up her long, silky silverish hair into a bun. She covered her head with the bandanna, and pulled on the helmet. Matt had, by then, got on the scooter, and started up the Vespa. "Hop on."

With a grumble, Nat got on that red scooter, her hands resting on Matt's shoulders. She frowned a little, and flexed her fingers. Had his shoulders always been that hard and strong?

Matt began driving, and Nat nearly fell asleep. "If you drive any slower, idiot, the century's going to pass."

"I"—

"I'm going to drive when we're coming back. I'll be old and aged and unmarried if you keep this up."

"I don't want to kill myself."

"I don't want to, either, but that doesn't mean I...Just go a little faster, if that's possible." She yawned. "That wasn't fake." She yawned again.

"It'll take another fifteen minutes. Can you stay awake till then?"

"No." She drew closer to him, pressing her thighs to his to keep her in place. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and put her head on his shoulder. "This is uncomfortable."

"I would suggest you remove your helmet"—

"I would suggest you suggest nothing at all."

—"But you love your helmet so much, so..."

"I'll manage."

Matt felt her breathing slow down. It was dangerous, her sleeping while he drove, but it meant less criticism about his driving.

He frowned. There was nothing wrong with his driving. He liked to drive safely, not like a lunatic. He left that for the stuntmen in the movies, and his parents. His father _and_ mother drove recklessly—it was a competition as to who could make the co-passenger shake with fear. As soon as he could, Matt began driving himself everywhere on his cycle, and when he came of age, his father brought him a Vespa. Even if they went to dinner, he would take his Vespa with him—his brother enjoyed their parents' driving, but Matt would end up in the bathroom, throwing up, rather than at a table.

He felt her chest press into his back, and blushed. In fact, he'd been blushing the entire time, ever since Nat snuggled closer to him. Nat was his best friend, but he was a guy, and Nat was an attractive woman.

An _extremely_ attractive woman.

"Nat, wake up. We're here," he whispered, and felt her stir. "Nat. Wake up."

"Stop yelling," she mumbled, and turned her head.

"I'm whispering. Now get up."

She yawned, and moved back. He sighed inwardly. _All good things must come to an end_. She got off. He parked the Vespa, and picked up the bag he'd got along. "Let's go in."

She removed her helmet, and began fussing with her hair as they went inside. Before she could ask, he plucked the helmet from her fingers and walked ahead, leaving her alone.

Peter Oxenstierna looked up at Matt, giving him a part quizzical, part bored look. "Who're you?"

"Matthew Williams."

"Who?"

"Francis Bonnefoy's son. The bearded guy"—

Peter's eyes lit up with recognition. "Oh! _His_ son." Peter frowned. "I thought his son's name was Al...Alex..."

"Alfred. He's my elder brother."

"You're bad with names."

Matt turned around to see Nat coming in. "You don't know his name, you don't know his brother's name. I'm surprised you know that _izvrashchennoy chelovek_. Have you ever even gone to their house?"

"He's my mom's youngest sibling"—

"He's your_ dyadya_? This little _korotyshka_?"

"Hey, lady, I don't know"—

"You wouldn't know anything I'd say even if I spoke in your language, _korotyshka_, so don't even bother."

"I speak in English, thank you very much!"

"Wh't all this noise ab't?"

"Hiii!" Matt yelped, and inched closer towards Nat.

"Daddy, she's picking on me"—

"Wait, what?" Nat said, turning to Matt.

"Tino's his 'mom'. And this...this is his dad."

Berwald Oxenstierna walked in, and Nat could understand why an absolute scaredy-cat like Matthew Williams would react that way. But what she didn't get was why a man like _Tino_ would be married to a tall, intimidating man like him.

"M'tt. How are y'? Who's this?"

"Berwald, hi"—

"Stop shuddering in your boots, _trusishka. _I'm Natalia Arlovskaya. This is Matthew William Bonnefoy, _otrod'ye_," she snapped, addressing Peter.

"See, daddy? She's"—

"Russian?"

"_Da._"

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "I don't like russians."

"I don't like racist _ublyudki_ like you, so we're even, _da_?"

His eyes widened at her tone and words. "Wh' are y' doin' w'th a scaredy-cat like Matt?"

She smiled. "Someone needs to protect this _trusishka_."

A tiny, nearly negligible smile curved Berwald's lips. He held out his hand. "Berwald Oxtenstierna. My son, Peter."

She shook it briskly. "We've come here to ice-skate."

He nodded, and turned to his son. "Help them out. I'll be in th' back." And with a nod to both Matt and Natalia, he walked away.

Matt tugged on Nat's hair. "I'm not a _tosishca_."

"_Trusishka._ Yes you are, so don't bother arguing." With a glare in Peter's direction, she walked away.

Matt walked into the ice-rink quietly, watching Natalia. She was so...she'd tied a bow in her hair, he noticed. She usually had a bow in her hair, and undid the ribbon only when she had to pull on her helmet. He looked at her wheatish-blond hair. It shimmered silver in the blue light of the ice-rink. He knew she gave it exactly a hundred and fifty brushes before going to bed. Unlike her sister, she prefered keeping her hair long and open, and Matt loved tugging on it at times.

He made his way behind her, and tugged on the end of her hair. She turned her head and tilted it up to him, and the distance, his hand on her back, toying with her hair and her hand, curled on his seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

Had he ever noticed just how _unique_ her irises were? They were the most unreal shade of blue—

"What is it?"

He stepped back, shaken by the intensity of...himself? His own emotions? The moment? He slightly shook his head, and hid behind his shy smile—that was the only way he could convince her that things were fine on his side. "Let's skate. Hold onto that rail for a moment."

He got down on his knees, and began undoing her boots.

"Matthew Williams, _vy s uma soshli_? Are you mad?"

"Don't worry, Nat. I undo your boots every time you drink too much vodka"—

"There is nothing like too much vodka."

"When you beg and moan to chop your head off the next day, yes it is. I undo your boots whenever your drunk. Your stinky feet won't knock me off."

He grinned at the tone of her voice. "Matthew Williams, I will kick you in your face. It will be as easy as taking candy from a baby." He kept quiet, knowing that without fuel, her fire wouldn't burn. She huffed and kept quiet for a while. He slipped on less bulky slippers, and when he began strapping the ice-blades on, she asked, "How did you know my shoe size?"

He looked up and grinned, and something popped inside her. "I took your skates from the staffroom."

She looked at his grinning face, and blushed a little. After checking the straps, he sat back and put on his own ice-blades. Holding onto the railing, he got up. "Hold my hand."

She put her small hand in his larger one. "M-Matt, I don't know"—

"I'm right here. Trust me."

With that, he moved with her to the gate, steadily instructing her on how to skate. Once they reached the gate, he placed her hand on the rail, and said, "I need to brush up. It's been too long. Hold on." And he took off.

It was like watching a bird that had finally left its cage, or a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. Matt shed off all his shyness, uncertainty, and insecurity—he became the streak of yellow and red that flew across the ice like a bird whose feet broke the surface of the water before flying away.

Something painful clutched Natalia's heart. Was he going to fly away, too, and leave her behind?

_Matt._

It passed her lips involuntarily, and broke the spell the ice had woven around him. He took one last round by himself, then moved over to Natalia, hand outstretched. " Take my hand. We'll do a few rounds around the ice. Move like I told you to."

He held her left hand in his left, and let the right rest on the small of her back for support. Nat moved uncertainly at first, but Matt never stopped encouraging her quietly, and soon, they were coordinated. Matt slipped her left hand into his right, and finally, let go of her fingertips.

"M-Matt!"

"It's okay, Natalia. You can do it. I'm right behind you."

Matt sped by her side, circling a smaller circumference, chuckling at the utter concentration that had drawn her eyebrows together. "Relax, Nat. If you don't, you'll"—

Distracted, Nat's foot slipped, and she let out a yelp as she—

—"fall," he whispered, and hurried over to her. "Nat, are you"—

"I'm fine." She ignored his outstretched hand, attempted to get up, slipped, and fell again.

He sighed. She wasn't going easy. "Upsy-daisy," he muttered as he hefted her up. She leaned back, he lost balance, and they fell down again.

"Mommy!"

Tino sighed. Since Berwald was the daddy, he, naturally, became the mommy. He didn't...he loved them both, but mommy? That was a little off too much for him. "Hey, Peter. Where's daddy?"

"Daddy's"—

"H'llo, wife."

Now _this_ was too much. "I'm not your wife, Berwald!"

He stepped forward and ran his knuckles over Tino's cheek. "I'm so gl'd to see y', Tino."

Tino sighed. There was no escaping this man's overwhelming kindness. "I'm glad to see you too, Berwald." He turned to the glass doors of the ice-rink, saw Natalia lying on top of Matthew.

"Nice girl," Berwald said, following his gaze.

"I have my doubts."

Berwald looked at his love. Tino always thought the best of everyone. "Wh't is wrong?"

Tino sighed, remembering Francis's words. "Nothing. I'm just paranoid."

Sensing their son's curiosity, Berwald let it lie.

Matt and Nat made their way outside. Matt saw Tino, and hurried over. "Hey, uncle Tino!"

At least someone treated him like he was male. "It's been long, hasn't it?"

"Too long. But every minute's worth it."

"You're not going to have company for a few days. Bring the girl along."

Matt's face broke into a small smile. "You don't trust her, do you?"

_Uh oh_. "It's not like that, Matt"—

"It's okay. Dad told me. Sometimes, being associated with bad circumstances make us bad. But there are some people whose goodness shines brighter because of that. Natalia's one of them, Tino. I truly believe that."

"Oh. Uncle Tino, right?" Nat enquired as she came out. "Umm...nice place you've got here."

Tino smiled at the obvious attempt at social niceties. "Thank you, Natalia. I'm glad you like it."

"Well, we're off," Matt said, slinging his bag on his shoulder. "We'll be back tomorrow."

"We?" Nat asked as they walked out.

"Yeah. Uncle Tino likes you. So does Berwald, which is a surprise unto itself. And Peter's like mum—he says one thing, means the opposite."

She smiled. "I like them, too."

Something pinged in him. "You want to go out for dinner? I know this great place."

"Oh really? And is this great place a restaurant that we _don't_ work in?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Okay, fine. Last time was a joke"—

"A disaster."

"Fine. But we don't work here. And the food's as good as dad's."

Nat was genuinely interested. "Really? Who runs the place?"

Matt grinned wickedly. "Wang Chun-Yan."

* * *

**A/N: Next time—the Asians! God, I can't wait to write that one.**

**Sorry for posting this late. We had relatives over yesterday, and there was a social function that I had to attend today, so...been pretty busy. Plus, I was working on **'La Figlia del Ricco—The rich man's daughter'** yesterday, which is a Germany x Fem!Italy...it's really sweet. Go check it out.**

**Well, the next chapter (or the next two) deals with Wang Chun-Yan, and her relationship with certain Russians...stay tuned!**

**Tell me what you think about it so far!**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**

**P.S.: I'm working on a PruHun, but I really don't know where it's going...if you love PruHun, tell me what you'd love to see...I'd love all the help I can get!**


	4. Chapter 4: Asians and goodnight kissing

**A/N: Watch out for the unexpected...this chapter has a pretty sneaky way of springing things up on you...it certainly did on me.**

**Dedicated to Light-angel-of-Japan and Dark Void Princess 21...you guys know what you did, and I love you for it.**

**Disclaimer: I've said this three times. Don't own Hetalia. If I did, South Korea would get more anime space! Yeah!**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 4

"Mei! Nice to see you!" Matt greeted.

Mei tilted her head. "Who are you?"

Matt sighed. This was becoming a long-suffering joke. "Matthew William Bonnefoy."

When she heard the word 'Bonnefoy', she turned around and yelled, "_Dàjiě_, there's a Bonnefoy here!"

"_Shì shuí?_"

"A Bonnefoy! A Bonnefoy!"

"_Dàodǐ shì shénme?_A Bonne—Matthew!"

Finally, someone who knew his name! "_Nǐ hǎo_!"

"_Nǐ hǎo_, Matthew! I see you've gotten along a girl! _Xiànzài yīgè rén, bùshì ma?_"

He blushed. "Miss Wang, this is my friend, Natalia Arlovskaya. Nat, this is Wang Chun-Yan."

Chun-Yan held her hand out, but Natalia surprised her by saying, "I've heard a lot about you from that_ borodatyy razvratnik_."

Chun-Yan laughed, and shook Natalia's hand. "I agree with you, aru. That man is a bearded pervert. But if Francis has been speaking about me, aru, I can only guess what he might've said."

"He has great respect for you."

"And I for him. Mei! Go help Kiku in the kitchen. I need to talk to my guests."

Chun-Yan led them to a room separate from the rest of the bustling, noisy restaurant. "Please, sit." They all settled down. "How are you, aru? It's been a while, hasn't it, aru?"

Matt nodded. "We should all meet up sometime."

"This is a very...lively place," Nat commented.

Chun-Yan nodded. "As it should be, aru. That Bonnefoy...I'm not going to step into your restaurant, Matthew. It would break my heart to see what that man has done to my darling restaurant, aru."

"Oh, he keeps it lively," Nat muttered, and Matt smiled sheepishly. "The day doesn't begin unless the two of them have some sort of argument."

Chun-Yan laughed. "Much like you mother and father, aru?"

Nat frowned. "Alice used to work?"

"Worst week the restaurant had, aru," Chun-Yan commented. "We left the business part to her after that, aru. Bonnefoy and I took care of the cooking and waiting."

"Well, Miss Wang, we would love to have dinner here"—

"Oh, silly me. What would you like, aru?"

"The usual."

"For both of you?"

For some reason, Nat didn't trust the twinkle in both their eyes. "Yes."

"Wait...what's the usual?"

"You're lucky you're not with his brother, aru," Chun-Yan said. "The spice that man eats would drill a hole in your stomach, aru. Even _I_ can't digest that much spice...Well, I'll leave you two alone, aru. Enjoy."

"She's a nice woman," Nat commented.

"She reminds me a lot of your brother," Matt said, sitting back.

"You know noth"—

A knock at the door interrupted her, and the door swung open. "Konnichiwa," Honda Kiku greeted, carrying a tray. He bowed at them both, placed the tray on the table, walked to the door, bowed again, and left.

"Who was that?"

"Honda Kiku. He's the second eldest of the siblings. He's...a very silent person."

Matt reached out, took the two glasses of green tea, and handed one to Nat. Without thinking, Nat look a sip.

"It's bitter," he said as she tried removing the taste from her mouth. "It's an acquired taste. It gets better."

She thought otherwise, but just held it, since she didn't have anything else to hold onto. "You know nothing about my brother, Matthew."

"That's true," he nodded, and sipped. "I know he found you all at an orphanage, and saved you from the matron who took care of you. He enlisted himself as your guardian, and took a job in a coal mine at the age of fourteen. And left Russia, and came here when he was nearly seventeen. But, Nat, that tells me enough about him." He sipped again. "Miss Wang worked with a non-profit organization that helped return lost children to their parents, instead of putting them in the loop of foster homes."

Nat smiled bitterly. "Foster homes are awful everywhere, huh?"

He nodded. "She'd been raised in one herself. She didn't want that for others. They were mostly successful, but they sometimes had to hand over children to the foster homes since their parents never turned up. Her 'siblings', in another sense, were all adopted by her. There's Kiku Honda and Mei Xiao, Im Yong Soo and Kaoru. She was just twenty when she applied to be their guardian."

He turned to Nat. "Your brother and Miss Wang have had it rough. They've both had to be parent figures at a young age. That's why I said they are similar."

Nat wanted to let the silence lie, but a question was buzzing in her head. "If she applied to be their guardian...why is she here?"

"They refused. Neither she nor her siblings wanted to be separated. So she came here."

There was a knock at the door. This time, Mei came in, put the food before them, bowed, and walked off.

"What's with the silent treatment?"

"I don't know." _Miss Wang, I'm sure you told them to read the mood. Thank you. _"Well, dig in."

*x*

"Well, aru? What do you think?"

Matt sighed and leaned back. "I'm full! Thank you for the amazing food, Miss Wang."

Nat nodded, and attempted a small smile. "I love Mr. Bonnefoy's cooking, but this is more closer to home. Thank you, Miss Wang."

She sighed. "There's something to be said about nostalgia, eh, _háizi_? Bonnefoy cooks well, aru—he puts too much butter and sugar in his food for my taste."

Matt laughed. He'd been hearing that same line ever since he was a little boy. "Thank you, Miss Wang. We'll take your leave, now."

"Come back sometime soon, aru. And Matt? _Ràng wǒmen lái tán tán hòu_."

_Let's talk later_. Matt knew Chinese from all the time he spent with Chun-Yan. He nodded. "I'll see you later, then. _Zàijiàn."_

"_Zàijiàn."_

"Bye, Miss Wang," Nat said, and Matt and Natalia walked to the Vespa, lost in their own thoughts.

Before either of them knew it, they had reached Natalia's house.

Matt walked her till her door. "I'll come by and pick you up tomorrow."

She shrugged. "I don't know...Maybe I'll skate to work tomorrow with my brothers. Spend some time with them."

He smiled. Wang Chun-Yan was already becoming an influence on Nat, but Matt wasn't surprised. Chun-Yan left a mark on everyone she met. "You'll want your skates for that." He rummaged through his bag, and pulled out her purple skates.

"Now you don't have to pick me up," she said drily.

"Lucky me," he joked, but his smile faded at her serious expression.

"Thank you for the dinner. It was...different. I'm glad you introduced me to her."

He smiled. "Thank you for your company."

She snorted. "You have my company throughout the day."

"This was different, Nat. Good night."

Something propelled her to do it—maybe it was that insistent voice at the back of her head. She leaned up, and brushed her lips against his—just a feather touch, but lightning shot through her, followed by a mellow heat that melted right into her heart. She stepped back, but the fire blazing in those blue eyes stopped her. She didn't know when she stepped forward, and when his hand clasped the back of her head, but his lips were on hers, his hand drawing her closer. His tongue slid over her lips, pressed them open—she moaned softly, and opened her mouth to his. His tongue explored her mouth, moved with hers in a motion that made the fire in her blood pump slowly, languidly melting her all the way to her bones. Her hand smoothed over his cheek, buried themselves into his soft hair, her fingers curling over the supple strands.

He eased back, broke the kiss. She opened her eyes, looked into his clouded blue eyes. He smelled of wood, sweet maple, and...him. His scent was slowly wrapping around her, threatening to never let go.

"Good night."

With a whisper that sent flames zinging up her spine, he turned around and left. As she stood there, watching him leave, staying long after he'd left, she could think of only one thing.

_I want more._

* * *

The first thing he could say to Chun-Yan was, "I didn't tell dad."

And the second thing was, "I kissed her, Miss Wang."

Chun-Yan took him inside. The restaurant had closed for the night, and Chun-Yan, expecting him, had stayed back to clean up. She brought out a bottle of sake and two _choko_. "Kiku told me this was the best we had...and I would expect the best, aru, when we are celebrating."

"She's going to kill me tomorrow, Miss Wang."

"Well, she didn't stop you from kissing her, did it, aru? If a girl doesn't like a man, Matthew, she makes sure to let him know, aru. She would've slapped you, or at least pushed you away, aru. It didn't happen. She liked it."

"You think so?"

"_Nánhái_, I've slapped enough men in my time. Take my word for it, aru. Now, tell me more about this girl of yours, aru."

Blushing, Matthew told Chun-Yan everything about Natalia, slowly losing his inhibition while he spoke to her. Chun-Yan sat there, sipping the sake, listening to him without interrupting. The topic shifted, and Matt found himself telling her about her family, and about the strange fear she had for her brother, Ivan.

"Ivan Braginsky...He's quite the businessman in these parts, aru. People tend to talk a lot, and I've heard things ranging from awed to terrifying. People talk about him, aru, and those who are against him talk with fear, sometimes hidden, sometimes not. And this is his sister...Wait, doesn't he have another sister, aru?"

Matt nodded. "Katyusha Braginskaya. She's his own blood."

"You've made me curious, aru. Have you ever met this Ivan Braginsky?"

"Natalia's forbidden me from meeting him."

"Hmm...What do you think about him, aru?"

"The same I thought of you when dad told me about you—how incredibly kind you are."

Chun-Yan smiled. There was a reason this boy was so dear to her, and this was it. "Well, then. I shall meet him tomorrow."

"Miss Wang! You can't...You can't"—

She smiled slyly. "What can't I do, aru?"

"You can't go into someone's house without any reason!"

"Well, n_ánhái_, I do have a reason. You see, aru, your Nat has left her ribbon and gloves here, and as a responsible lady and the head of this establishment, I simply must return them, aru. I'll meet him in the morning. Tell your father, aru, that I've invited you over for a late-night chat. We'll talk again tomorrow, aru."

Matt rose to leave. "Thank you for the sake"—

"You drank just two servings, aru."

He smiled. "Dad will kill me if he knows I've been drinking sake."

"Isn't that man just adorable, aru? Drive safely, _nánhái._ _Wǎn'ān._"

"Good night, Miss Wang. And take care."

As she watched him drive away, she thought, _If there is any truth in the words of men, then, yes, Matthew Williams, I must take care_.

* * *

He wanted to sleep. After that long and hectic night, he just wanted to sleep the whole day away, and when he awoke, he wanted to lie in his soft, comfy bed for hours, staring at the ceiling while letting his thoughts bounce around in his head. It was his way of meditation, and he just wanted to be left alone—asleep, awake.

"But, no such luck, since some _tupitsa_ is busy banging my bell away."

Not even caring how wrong that sounded, Ivan yawned and scratched his head. He rubbed his cheek, and yawned again. This was not fair. He walked to the kitchen. Let him ring the bell how much ever he thought fit. He would wash his face first.

He splashed water on his face, only to hear someone yell—

"I know you're in there, aru. Ivan Braginsky, open up!"

He straightened and blinked. A woman. With an accent...he placed it as asian. Usually, he was pretty good at matching places with accents, but his mind wasn't working anymore. Her fault. "I'm coming, _chert poberi_!" he yelled, walking to the door. With a final slap to the face, he swung the door open.

And he felt himself jolted into attention.

"Ivan Braginsky, aru?"

He tilted his head, and studied the woman. She was Asian—Chinese, if he knew correctly—slim, petite, with her deep auburn hair tied up in a set of buns. But he really didn't care about that. He'd met far too many slim, petite woman in his line of work, and he never particularly cared for them, or any of the other 'companions' who worked with them.

Her eyes captured his attention. They were a bright brown, with specks of red altering their colour every time he looked at them. More than the unique colouring itself, it was the look in her eyes.

It was like looking into a mirror.

"Are you going to stare at me, aru, or are you going to move? Because, by now, any sane person would've invited me in, aru."

Ivan frowned as he moved back. She added 'aru' to everything. It was quite...fascinating.

She was quite fascinating, and he didn't even know her name yet, while she knew his.

"Nice place you have here, aru."

"I endeavour to keep it clean." Ivan closed the door behind him, and walked over to the chinese woman, who was making herself right at home. "Comfortable, _da_?" he asked as she sat down. "Maybe you'll let me know who you are now."_  
_

She grinned sheepishly, and something tightened within him. "Wang Chun-Yan, owner of _Zìzhì shípǐn_."

He smiled, but the amusement that reached his eyes was mocking. Somehow, it didn't seem to raise the hackles of the chinese woman. "Quite a mouthful, isn't it?"

"Well, people refer to it as Miss Wang's place, aru."

"Wang Chun-Yan...your reputation surprises me."

"Why? Because I haven't attempted to gut you yet, aru?"

The mocking look in his eyes vanished, replaced by pure amusement, and respect. "Well, Miss Wang, you've been sitting there, smiling at me and looking pretty. You know my name, so you must know my reputation, _da_?"

Her eyes sharpened. "Reputations are merely guidelines, aru. I form my opinion based on what I think of the person, aru, and not what falls from other's lips." But before he could say anything, she flicked those sharp eyes over him. "But your reputation doesn't cover your lack of decent attire, aru."

Ivan looked at the vest and the faded yellow pajamas. "I was about to fall asleep."

"Well, I'm sorry to disturb you, aru."

"You don't look very sorry to me."

"You don't look like a bad host to me, but I guess we all get it wrong sometimes, don't we, aru?"

He smiled. "I know what the answers going to be, but why not? Would you like something to drink, eat?"

She smiled back, a mirror image of his sly smile. "I won't be here too long, aru, so you don't have to trouble yourself."

Ivan realized he enjoyed being toyed by this woman as much as he was enjoying toying with this woman. "No, I insist. Some vodka would be nice, _da_?"

She was good, he realized, when she didn't blanch. "I'll have a glass, aru." When he rose, she added, "Of water."

His eyes narrowed even as his smile grew. He didn't know what it was about this woman, but he liked her witty tongue very much. "Of course." He walked to the kitchen, got himself a glass of vodka (even though he wanted just more than _one_ glass) and got her a glass of water. He walked back to where she was sitting, and handed her the glass of water. He settled down on a chair to the side, and watched her drink.

"Well, would you oblige this host of yours and let me know what business you have with me?"

"Maybe I just wanted your company, aru."

"Miss Wang, we've just met."

She raised her eyes to his, all serious now. "Sometimes we don't take long to understand one who is like is. And you are very much like me, aru." She held the parcel she'd put to the side, and placed it on the table. "Natalia Arlovskaya had come over to my restaurant, and had forgotten to take these back with her."

He frowned. "What was she doing at your restaurant?"

"Having dinner with a good friend, aru. And as a very beloved adult figure of this close friend of hers, I decided to come over and return it."

He looked at her, smiled. "Why not go over to Bonnefoy's? She works there."

"Is that what that bloody Frenchman named it, aru? If he's changed the name, he's changed it all. I shall _not_ step into that establishment for as long as I live, aru. Francis Bonnefoy wanted it, he can keep it, aru."

Ivan blinked, surprised. So the Bonnefoys were friends, were they? Even from her words, he knew she had a healthy relationship with Francis Bonnefoy. A bell rung in his head, and he recalled that she had worked with Bonnefoy until she got her own restaurant.

Even otherwise, he was surprised to see a calm, composed woman like her with her feathers ruffled. And as he pondered over it, it was a _pleasant_ surprise.

Wang Chun-Yan was full of surprises, and it was going to be a delight, finding out every single one of them.

"And another thing, aru. Do you like to place ice-hockey?"

He frowned. This was unexpected. "_Da_."

"There's a district tournament coming up, aru, and the tryouts are a week and a half away."

He smiled, bitterness creeping into his eyes. "Let's think about it this way, _da_? I do, somehow manage to find a place to practice, and I also manage to go there regularly for a week and a half. But, tell me, Miss Wang, who's going to guarantee whether I'm allowed in or not?"

She smiled. "I'll put in a word for you, aru. Something tells me you're a good player"—

He snorted. She smiled wider. —"And Tino would not deliberately put off good players. So, I'll allow you in, aru, but you're going to have to play your best game there."

"I'll have to think about it."

Chun-Yan pulled out a notepad from her pocket. "Do you have a pen, aru?"

He opened a small table drawer next to him, found a pen, and gave it to her. She scribbled something on it, and tore the paper off the pad. "That's my name and my phone number, aru. The right-hand corner has the address of my restaurant printed on," she said, handing the paper over to him. He read what was written there, and his eyes widened. He looked up at her, and saw the tiny smug smile on her face.

The sly old bat. She'd beaten him at his own game.

"Thank you for the _offer_, Miss Wang. I'll let you know _soon_."

She grinned, and managed to temper it down. "You do that, aru. Well, then, I must be going."

He led her out, and closed the door behind her. Back on the door, he unfolded the paper which had her name, phone number, restaurant address and one extra thing.

_I want to see you again. Come meet me at my restaurant. Soon._

Wang Chun-Yan was full of surprises, and it was going to be a delight, finding out every single one of them.

* * *

**A/N: Next up: The week of the tryouts, and the tryouts themselves!**

**A funny thing happened today...There is a dog (a really nasty one) whom I see everyday when I go jogging with my dog. She's in heat, and ****she kept chasing my dog, wanting him to mate with her. I saw chasing since I was jogging ahead, and my dog can't survive without my protection, so he was following me, and she was following him...And suddenly, I thought of Belarus! I named her Belarus, and kept saying 'Dingo KolKolKol' all the way back home. Unfortunately, my dog's nothing like Russia, so...Still, I couldn't stop laughing the entire time.**

**I hope you've enjoyed it so far! Please review and let me know what you think!**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**

**P.S: My PruHun is going nowhere... T-T**


	5. Chapter 5: Cubans and steamy cubicles

**A/N: Wow, I've got five reviews! That it soo awesome! Thanks, Dark Void Princess 21, and Liv, for making my day! I was just grinning at my laptop screen for five minutes straight, and it creeped my bro out. So yay for creeped out bros!**

**The last chapter was awesome...I know that's what I've been saying from the past two chapters, but still. It is the best chapter till now. But maybe that'll change, once I start writing this chapter. Once I get off this A/N.**

**My latest artist-to-listen while I'm writing is Sanjeev Abhyankar...I fell asleep listening to him yesterday, and I've been able to write better listening to him. He's awesome. I love listening to classical music while writing, I guess. ^^**

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this again? No, don't own Hetalia, yes, own the storyline of the fanfiction. If I owned Hetalia, though...Cuba's name would be Diego Rodriguez. As it is in this fanfic.**

* * *

Diego leaned back, and watched as the blond streaked from one end of the ice-rink to the other side. There wasn't anyone else on the rink, just the blond, and, like it always had been, it was an absolute education, watching the blond lose what others thought of as his 'normal behaviour' and become someone completely different on the ice.

Diego grinned. He had been the first to see the man come out Matthew Williams Bonnefoy when he was on the ice, and he couldn't stop observing him on the ice ever since.

"Well? Are you going?"

The cuban turned to the brat who was manning the counter, and grinned. "Well, _chico_, give this old man to look at the master of the ice-rink. It's been too long."

The brat leaned over and looked through the glass partition. "Matt? Master of the ice-rink?"

Diego flicked the boy some coins. "How about you give me a pair of ice-skates, _chico_, and a stick, and see for yourself?"

Harrumphing like an old man, the young lad went and got Diego what he'd asked for. Diego thanked the brat, and walked to the ice-rink.

It had been too long.

* * *

Nat looked up from her sketch book and looked at Matt. Other than her elder siblings and him, no one knew she loved to draw. And right now, she was drawing her favourite subject, Matt.

She continued to look at him from the sidelines. The past three days had been so awkward she could've cried. Matt was a really polite person, but this-this...this was the damned heights! How could she act on the burning desire to grab his face and kiss him senseless while he was acting as if she was the Queen of England? God, if she asked it of him, he'd probably sink into a curtsey, too.

She frowned at him, then eased it out. If he were to glance at her and see her frowning at him, he'd be even more polite. While a part of her thought it wasn't possible, another part knew he'd resort to treating her as the Queen of the damned World if she so much as yelled at him.

Why, oh why was she attracted to a damn gentleman?

Well, she wasn't a gentle lady—the very thought of that word made her smile. She was going to go down there, and—

"You still play like a girl, _amigo_."

Matt turned, and let out a yelp of joy. He sped across the ice, and threw himself at the larger, heftier man, who easily caught him and crushed him in a bear hug.

"Diego! It's really you!"

The enormous man let him down and looked at him. "Matthew Williams, it is so good to see you, _compañero_."

Well, there went her plans to kiss Matt.

She closed her sketch book, put it in her back and walked towards where the...well, what word could she possibly use to describe two men, hugging and poking each other?

Bromance...that was the word Matt had used once. But Bromance would mean that the Diego character was...

She felt her hands twitch. If that was so, she would castrate Diego in his sleep.

"Well, _amigo,_ who is this beautiful woman? You must introduce me to her."

Diego Rodriguez, Natalia Arlovskaya. Nat, this is Diego"—

"Matt is the closest thing I have to a brother," Diego cut off, and extended his hand. "You must be _su amante_." She took his hand, and prepared to shake it briskly, but Diego extended it to his lips.

"Get your slobbering lips off my hand, _ublyudok_."

Diego raised his eyebrow in challenge, but still kissed her hand. "A feisty one, are you,_ dorogoy?_" he asked, surprising her by talking in Russian. "I love _moya zhenshchina_ like that."

Nat raised an eyebrow as well. He liked his woman feisty, did he? "Sorry, friend. _YA zanyat_."

He smiled, and turned to Matt. "You have a treasure here, Matt. She's just as fiery as you said she was." He looked at Nat. "Nice meeting you, Nat."

She nodded curtly.

"Well, Matt? Want to play?"

Matt's face took on an uncharacteristic grin, full of belligerence. "I've been practicing, Diego. And I can't say you're in any shape to play."

Diego took in the look of shock on Nat's face, and grinned at her. "Never seen this side of him, have you?" He straightened and took the puck out of his pocket. "Well, Nat, you're in for more surprises. Ice-Hockey is more that just special to Matt." He got onto the ice, and looked at her dead in the eye. "It is the game that changed Matt to a man."

* * *

Both of them slid outside the ring, and Diego collapsed.

"You look beat," Matt panted, hands on knees, breathing heavily.

Diego was wheezing, flat on his bum, gasping for air. "Someone's...put on...some...weight."

"More to beat you with, grandma."

Diego looked up, and grinned the best he could. "Cut...it out. You're...going to send...Nat into a coma."

He couldn't look up—playing with Diego was playing with a charging bulldozer, and he had always managed to tire him to the point of near unconsciousness. But, luckily for Matt, Diego had put on weight and was having trouble carrying it around. Matt had been practicing for days on end to near exhaustion, and he was in a much better shape than his older, heavier friend.

Matt straightened, and rubbed his face with the collar of his shirt. "That was good," he sighed, and began undoing his skates. "Are you going to play?"

"If you're...on my team."

Matt grinned. "Wimp."

"Loser."

"Towel?"

Matt and Diego looked up to see Natalia holding two towels at them. Matt smiled at her and took the towel, while Diego said, "My darling, I'm exhausted. Care to help me?"

Before anyone could respond, Matt took the towel and threw it on Diego's face. He got up, murmured something unintelligible, and walked to the door. Knowing he'd be questioned later, he stopped at the door, turned around and announced, "I'm going to the showers." And he got out of there as soon as he could.

Nat turned to Diego, shock etched on her face. "What the hell was that?"

Diego removed the towel from his face and smiled knowingly. "That, my darling Nat, is jealousy."

* * *

Matt twisted the ends of his hair with his fingers. It was either time for a cut, or time to borrow his dad's hair ties. He smiled. His father was in love with the fact that he grew his hair longer than fashion demanded, but, in truth, Matt just forgot about it until Nat dragged him to the barber's.

Nat. His smile waned. What was that? Diego was his best friend—if it had been anyone else, it would've been considered rude. He knew for a fact that if anyone else had done that to Diego, he would've cut them to small, small pieces, fried them and fed them to his cats. That, or he would've sat on them.

Tino walked in, towel around his waist, clothes draped on his arm. He raised a hand in greeting. "_Moi!_"

"Hi," Matt replied. "You look beat, Uncle Tino."

Tino laughed. "Well, shooting hoops with Honda Kiku's a pretty tiring thing...that boy is so fast it's a miracle he was still visible."

Matt grinned. "You really shouldn't have taken on Kiku. Even Al is in awe of his basketball skills."

"Your brother, the basketball big shot? That's amazing."

Matt shrugged, and smiled. "I'll see you around, Uncle Tino." He opened the door of the cubicle, and stepped inside. He hung up his clothes and his towel, and turned on the shower. Tino took the cubicle next to him, and turned on the shower on loud and hot. Matt didn't really know if he minded; he had a lot on his mind, but without any conversation, he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about it.

Deciding the steam from the next cubicle was hot enough for an army, he turned down the heat of his shower, and raised his face to it, letting the water beat down whatever was roaming in his head. He turned off the shower, took the soap he'd brought along—he trusted Tino, but he liked his soap the best—and soaped himself methodically, letting his mind concentrate only on that. He put the soap back in the case, turned the shower on hot—hot water washed soap off better than cold water, and rinsed himself. He let his head take the full beating, running his hands through his hair and finger-combing it back. Eventually, it'd dry off, and settle down.

He heard a knock on his door. "I'm almost out," he called out.

"Said something, _poika_?"

"Uh, no, Uncle Tino!" he yelled back at Tino, who really couldn't hear properly otherwise. There was another knock at his door.

He raised an eyebrow in mild exasperation. There were five other cubicles. Couldn't this person go to some other cubicle?

Maybe it was like his soap thing—they liked this cubicle, maybe? But still, practically, they really couldn't get into the—

There was that knocking again. Matt swung the towel off the ring, tied it around his waist, and yanked open the cubicle door. "You'll have to—_Nat_?" he squeaked.

Nat, on her part, looked as shocked as he was. When the hell did her wimpy best friend _develop_ his pectoral muscles? Or his biceps, or triceps, or chest—when the hell had all of that happened? And what had _she_ been doing—acting like a random blind lady on a galloping donkey? He was_ built_—he wasn't an I-love-myself bodybuilder. He was nice and lean and—

_Just the way I like them_.

"Just the way you _what_?"

Oh crap. She'd said it out loud.

But before either of them could say anything, they heard footsteps. Without thinking, Matt grabbed Nat, yanked her in, and closed the cubicle door just as the door opened.

"Who the hell?" she whispered.

"I don't know. Don't say anything loud"—

"Wife!"

Both of them jolted to attention at Berwald's roar. Tino heard it, though. "I am _not_ your wife, you _perse_!"

"Oh no," Matt whispered into her ear. His hot breath made her blood roar.

"What?" she hissed back. The smell of grape reached him—he realized it was from all the grape-flavoured candy she loved to eat, and, by god, he wanted to kiss her so bad—

Wait. Where had that come from?

_Oh, let's see. You're naked with nothing but that towel on, and all she's wearing is a vest and trousers. Her front's pasted to your front, her breasts are pressing into your chest, and you're slowly rising to attention. You're naked, you're both moulded, and she's all over you. Gee, I wonder where that came from._

He blinked, but he wasn't surprised. His mind really gave it to him when he was horny. Like the day before. He'd had to sustain his mind's abuse the entire night, and hadn't really slept well.

"Op'n th' door, wife!"

They heard the door swing open. "Now you listen here"—

He was cut off, but a moan soon emerged from one of them, followed by a mewling sound. Nat leaned up and whispered into Matt's ear, "This is _not_ happening."

Oh, it was happening. Only problem was, it wasn't happening to them.

Berwald and Tino were busy making out in the next cubicle.

"B-Berwald...I'm wet..."

There was a ripping sound, and Matt and Nat saw a torn shirt hang from the top of the cubicle wall. A pair of trousers soon followed. "I'm wet, t', wife. Now c'me 'ere." Berwald let out a grunt, and something banged into a wall, and the noisy kissing continued.

Oh fuck, but he was getting a hard on.

He quickly turned away from Natalia, and tried pushing away her presence, their moaning out of his head. _Get out, get out, get out_—

Her hands ran down his back, and he straightened. Her hands moved to his sides, over his stomach—

"You go any further, Natalia Arlovskaya, and I'll make you wish you _hadn't_," Matt groaned hoarsely.

Her hands moved to his abdomen. "Something tells me you'll do exactly what I _want_." Her hands rested on his shoulders, pressed down as she rose to her tiptoes. Her hot breath blew over his earlobe. "_I want you, Matthew._"

He spun around, yanked her to him, and kissed the living daylights out of her. He grabbed the side of her face, tilted her head backwards, and bit her lip. She moaned—his tongue moved in, plundered, fought with her tongue for control, for submission, for what he wanted.

And, god oh god, he wanted _her_.

She broke off, but he wasn't done. She was going to see this _through_. He recaptured her mouth, ran his tongue over her lips, caught her bottom lip between his teeth. His hand moved down, lower, to her buttocks, and his fingers did to her derriere what his mouth did to her lower lip—knead, squeezed, rolled, bit into. She moaned into his mouth—heat streaked through him, burnt his mind to a crisp, reduced him to his need and her to his necessity.

Somewhere, they'd both sunk to the floor, her sitting in his lap, surrounded by moans—theirs, the ones in the next cubicle. She pushed him back, on his bum, captured his face in both her hands, and drank him in like a parched traveller. Dimly, in the background, they could hear Tino cry out, a little louder each time, unable to keep it in. And their tongues matched their rhythm to ones next door—one thrust for the other thrust.

_Stop_.

Matt pushed her back, mouths still locked, and pressed her into the wall of the cubicle. His mouth got off her mouth, and instantly attached itself to the fragrant, soft skin of her neck. One hand moved under her vest, over her stomach, curving to her back, the heat of his large rough hand leaving waves of electricity trailing behind it, that charge striking her core, making her hot between her thighs.

_Stop._

Matt drew back, and looked at Nat through hazy, unfocused eyes. His entire being was swamped by her—her lavender scent, her intoxicating taste, her hot flesh and her soft skin against his hard, calloused hand. And the heat that she radiated, that mingled into hers.

Her vision was blurry, but she could see his blue eyes, clouded over by desire. _Lust_.

He wanted her.

She wanted him.

"You need to leave."

His mind must've started working before hers, because all she could hear was his murmur, and her ears felt so damn _good..._

"Nat. You need to go out of here."

She looked up at him, and saw his bright blue eyes become cloudy again. "Why?"

"Because...this doesn't feel right. Not here. And definitely not now, Nat."

She didn't want to understand. She wanted to flick that damn towel off him and throw it at the Oxenstierna family. But her brain had started working, and her brain felt the same way. Damn cock-blocking brain. But he was right. Making out due to the heat of things...she knew what Matt wanted, and she wanted the same thing.

When they had their first time together, it had to be special.

Matt got up, held out his hand. Her brain was taking some time to change from mush, because she accepted his hand and let him help her up. "You go on...I need to cool off."

Nat reached out, and bit into his neck, hard enough to make him wince, but the wave of pleasure that rushed over him more than made it up for the slight sting. She leaned back, and studied her handiwork.

"Looks good?" he teased softly.

She grinned at him. "As good as mine does." She turned around, opened the door as quietly as she could, and left.

She went and sat on the waiting bench. Tino and Berwald walked out, Tino fully dressed, Berwald in a towel.

Tino saw Nat, and smiled. "Hi, Nat..." He saw the hickey, and his smile slowly faded as he spoke. "You...were there...in the next cubicle...with Matt."

Nat began blushing as furiously as Tino himself. "Have a nice day, Uncle Tino. Berwald."

"H've a nice day, Nat." Berwald ambled out.

Tino ran behind him, blushing to his roots.

Diego came out of the cubicle next to theirs, and saw Nat. "Gosh, I thought they were never going to leave—the two of them go at it like bunnies!"

Nat's blush deepened. "I know...I could hear."

"Wait, you didn't come in just"—Realization struck. "You were in there. Next door. Matt."

Nat was crimson red.

"So, all that moaning wasn't only theirs."

"You have your fucking answer, _mudak_, so get the hell out of here!" she roared at him. The shade of red on her face was indescribable.

Diego fled.

The final door opened and Matt emerged, as red as Nat was.

Nat took one look at Matt's face, and Matt at Nat's.

And they laughed long and loud.

* * *

"What is your brother doing there?"

Nat paled, but quickly frowned. "What—Is that miss Wang?" She heard Matt gulp audibly. She spun at him. "Matt, what's going on?"

"Nat, let's"—

"Aiya! Matthew Williams!"

—"escape," Matt finished weakly. They had been spotted.

Matt's day mostly involved Nat—he worked with her at the restaurant, and she'd sit through practice with him, then have dinner with him before going home. He'd asked that of her the morning after they'd...skated, and she hadn't minded. He hadn't known how she'd react after that kiss—she had kept glaring at him the whole day, and then looked at him as if he'd grown two horns, a beak and a pair of gliders. He'd thought she'd thought of him as some...horny teenage boy, but after today...He blushed, but quickly shook his head. No. He was not going to blush in front of Miss Wang.

Speaking of which, after he'd dropped Nat home, he go to Miss Wang's and have a late-night chat. But by the looks she and Nat's brother were exchanging, he'd have to forgo today's session.

"Natalia! _Chto ty zdes' deyalesh'?_" Ivan asked her.

"I came to eat here," Nat replied as they walked to them. Ivan raised an eyebrow, to which Matt said, "I thought we could have a taste of Moroccan cuisine, so I got her here." He extended his hand. "Matthew Williams Bonnefoy."

Ivan reached out and shook his hand. "Ivan Braginsky. Have dinner with us, comrade."

Matt and Nat didn't have to exchange a glance to know exactly what was going on in the other's head.

_Damn, Matt, I don't want to have dinner with my brother and Miss Wang!_

_Neither do I...I feel like a little kid who's caught two adults making out._

They looked at each other, sighed, and took seats opposite Miss Wang and Ivan. Ivan looked at his sister and her best friend curiously, while Miss Wang just went in for the kill. "How was practice, aru?"

Matt grinned. "Diego's back, Miss Wang!"

"Diego? Diego Rodriguez?"

"The same."

"Aiya! That rascal's back from Congo, is he, aru?"

Matt turned to the Russian siblings. "Diego's a photographer who is hired on a contract basis." He turned to Miss Wang, and both of them started speaking in rapid Chinese that neither Ivan nor Nat could follow.

Ivan turned to Nat. "Can you understand anything?" he asked her in Russian.

She shook her head. "It's like their code language or something."

He reached out to her. "Let's have our own code language. It'll be fun, _da_?"

Nat looked at her brother, astound, and felt his attention shift to Miss Wang. It struck her, unbidden.

His brother liked Miss Wang.

Nat looked at his hand, covering hers. She turned her hand around, and clasped his hand. She raised it to her mouth, and placed a kiss on the back of his hand. "I love you, brother," she said in Russian.

He blinked, astonished. Realization slowly struck him, and he smiled softly. "I love you, my little sister."

Miss Wang and Matt were looking at them. Giving his hand one last squeeze, she eased the grip she had on his hand, and brought it back to her lap. Ivan turned to the rest of them. "We'll order now, _da?_"

Matt blinked. "We haven't looked at the menu. Nat, what would you"—

"What's couscous?"

Matt sighed, and put his head down the plate. "Miss Wang, you order for us."

Chun-Yan ordered, and they just looked around awkwardly.

Matt's phone vibrated, and he took it out, muttering an "excuse me." His eyes narrowed at the email he received.

_This is awkward._

Matt quickly emailed back.

_Yes, it is awkward, especially when you're mailing me when I'm sitting right next to you._

Next to him, Nat chuckled.

_You don't want to mail?_

Matt resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

_It's rude. Mail later._

But Nat couldn't resist one last message.

_If things get...weird, we're leaving. ASAP._

Matt couldn't help but agree.

_Okay._

"Matt, it's rude to text at the table, aru," Chun-Yan chided. "Oh, here's the food."

"Done," he said, slipping his phone into his pocket. He knew Nat wouldn't get scolded—she'd mastered the art of mailing inconspicuously. The food was placed before them, and all four of them ate slowly, occasionally making comments on how amazing the food was.

"Ivan here is planning to appear for the ice-hockey tryouts, aru."

Nat looked at Ivan. "That's amazing, big brother. When"—

"Miss Wang, I'm still thinking about it," Ivan said. "I'm not very popular around these parts"—

"That doesn't really matter."

Everyone looked at Matt, who looked up. "Uncle Tino's doing the selections. He's the one who taught me that on the ice, everyone's a player. The only thing that matters is which side they're on—yours or the other person's. And Uncle Tino believes in that. You just have to play your best game, and you'll get in." Matt stopped playing with his food and smiled at Matt. "And the greatest thing about Uncle Tino? He's the sweetest man, but on the ice, no one can make him budge. And that's what gives him absolute power on the ice."

Chun-Yan looked at Matt. "But, what about Berwald"—

Matt looked at Nat, and grinned. "Natalia's already won him over, Miss Wang."

Nat snorted, but she still smiled. "Won that man over? More like gave him a taste of his own medicine."

Miss Wang blinked. "That man didn't scare you, aru? He's a really sweet person when you get to know him, but...he's really intimidating."

"Do intimidating men scare you, Miss Wang?"

Chun-Yan gave him a sly glance. "Should they, Mr. Braginsky?"

"Well," he said, "A woman as...experienced as yourself can handle your own, _da?_"

"You see, Mr. Braginsky, men are intimidated at the thought of an _experienced_ woman, aru."

Ivan looked at her. "Not all men, Miss Wang. Some of us find women such as yourself a challenge."

"Do you like challenges, Mr. Braginsky?"

He looked at her dead in the eye, with an expression that made her spine tingle with salacious heat. "I _enjoy_ challenges, Miss Wang."

Matt and Nat rose. "Well, it's getting late," Matt said, disturbing the bantering session between the Chinese and the Russian. "Miss Wang, do they have takeaways? I'm sure dad would love to have some Moroccan food after so long."

"The brats would love to have some, too," Nat explained.

"They do, aru. Should I"—

"It's okay, Miss Wang. Good night Miss Wang, Mr. Ivan"—

"Just Ivan's fine, comrade," Ivan said, and Matt nodded.

"Goodnight, Miss Wang. _Spokoynoy nochi, starshiy brat_," Nat said, and the two of them fled.

"I'd like some takeaway, too," Ivan commented, watching the younger ones leave.

"And what's that, aru?" Chun-Yan asked.

"You."

Ivan was yanked by the collar, until their mouths were just inches from each other. "A question, aru."

He wanted her to stop talking, wanted to _make_ her stop talking. But, _yey-bogu_, he didn't want to stop taunting her into reacting. "_D__a_."

"Your place or mine, aru?"

Well, he was going to have to find new ways to taunt her.

And he was going to enjoy each second of it.

* * *

**A/N****: Next time: the tryouts**!

**Okay, I know I promised the tryouts for this chapter, but...you got something better. Way better. And as to why Natalia's speaking Russian instead of Belarusian is because, in this fanfic, she's from Russia. All of them—Katyusha, Toris, Ravis, and Eduard speak Russian instead of Ukrainian, Lithuanian, Latvian and Estonian. So, anything they speak will be in Russian, but it won't be the same case with the Asian siblings.**

**I'm really sorry this took so long to come out—I'm going to my native place today evening, by train, so I spent yesterday and today packing. And yesterday, I met all my friends for what would be the last time in two months—all my group members have taken different colleges, so until my birthday, we won't be meeting up anytime soon. So I couldn't write anything yesterday.**

**It'll be a little irregular from now, mostly because there are frequent power cuts in my native place, and I'm staying over for a month. I'm taking a datacard, so you'll keep getting more of My Friend Natalia. ****And maybe, next time, you'll see the girls (who are they, you ask? Wait and watch) play air hockey—dudes versus chicks, air hockey girls versus ice-hockey jocks...that should be fun, don't you think?**

******You'll get next the chapter day after, folks, since I'll be reaching my native place at around 11 in the morning, and I'll spend the rest of the day exhausted...so I'll see you then!**

**Now, what are your thoughts on Gilbert 'Awesome' Beilschmidt the assistant coach? ^^**


	6. Chapter 6: Katyusha, & the Tryouts begin

**A/N: Thank you, Dark Princess Void 21, and Liv (darling, please make an account ASAP!) for making my day. For all those of you who waited, I was working on my first Ameripan (and PruCan) called 'Pancakes for Kiku.' It should've been 'Hamburgers for Kiku', but Arthur Kirkland didn't want to buy Al any lettuce…and no good Hamburger can be made without lettuce…Do check it out.**

**I am ****_agonizing _****over how I should start this chapter. I hope you enjoy it!**

**Plus, I updated the coverpic of this fanfic…yay!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia…if I did, Alfred F. Jones would be an apple-pie eating badass.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 6

"Matt?"

"Yes, dad," Matt replied, his hand going over the butter container. His dad loved his butter, and it was common to hear 'Pass the butter' at their dinner table.

"Did you get laid?"

Next to him, Al choked on his crepe.

"F-Francis! You don't ask you son questions like that!" Alice scolded, but Matt knew his mother. She wanted to know as badly as his dad did. Matt closed his eyes, and willed himself to breathe. He'd have to go and get breakfast from someplace else…he'd go to the Moroccan place he'd been to with Nat.

He got up. "I'm going to practice the whole day, dad—just three more days, so…it's okay if you want to cut it from my salary"—

"You're salary's going to remain intact. Who was it?"

"You can ask Al to work for you"—

"Hell, no! I'm a hero—I've got work to do!"

Alice gave her elder son a dubious look. "What _do_ you do the whole day, Alfred?"

Matt walked past his dad and mom, giving his dad a pat on the shoulder and his mum a kiss on the head, grabbed his hockey equipment, and walked out.

He hoped Nat wasn't getting the same treatment.

* * *

"She got laid."

"A hickey doesn't mean"—

"Who do you think did it?"

Nat felt a vein pop on her forehead. Either her brothers were all unable to hear each other, or they knew she could hear their 'whispering' over the table. "Will you just shut up and eat?" she growled. But the boys refused to keep quiet.

"She didn't get laid, Eduard."

"Yeah. Nobody who's got laid would be such a grouch"—

"I hope none of you are virgins, because I'll make sure none of you'll get laid!" Nat roared, and the boys fell quiet. Nat sighed exasperatedly, and looked around the table. Ivan hadn't come back the night before…she rolled her eyes. He was going to get a prime interrogation when he got home, but, then again, the boys were just _terrified_ of him. Nobody took liberties with Ivan Braginsky.

"Where's Kat?" Nat asked, but the looks on the boy's faces made her wish she hadn't. She sighed and got up. "I'll go give her her breakfast. You boys clean up."

Nat moved to their kitchen counter and began assembling Katyusha's breakfast on the plate. She could already hear her brothers talking about possible outcomes. With a growl informing them that she could hear them, she picked up the two plates and made her way to Katyusha's room on the first floor.

Her elder sister had…problems. They all did, considering their life in Russia, but Katyusha had had it even worse than Ivan had, and that was saying a lot. Nat had been too young to understand a lot, but the broken, dead look in her sister's eyes haunted her to date. It had been a little better when they'd come to W City—but she'd begun having nightmares about…that time again, and until she slept again, the broken look would persist in her eyes.

Nat knocked on Katyusha's door. "Kat? It's me. Can I come in?"

"_Da._"

Nat took a deep, shuddering breath to steady herself, and opened the door. The monstrosity that was Katyusha's room always terrified her. It had once been a light blue and green room. Ivan had given it to his elder sister, knowing how much she loved those colours, especially after the bleak brightness of their hometown. But when Nat was in highschool, something about Katyusha had changed—no longer did Katyusha sing lullabies to the four young ones, or bake pirozhki for them. Instead, she dissolved into mindless screaming fits, tearing apart and breaking everything in sight.

Nat refused to remember those times, or how bad it had been for all of them—Ivan had to resort to tranquilizers, and send his younger siblings to the farthest corners of the huge house, just because they didn't have anyone to rely on in the area. But the worst was the time when Nat had mistakenly locked herself in the room with Katyusha, and the latter had begged, unreserved…

"Natalia," Katyusha said.

"Morning, Kat," Nat said, setting the plates before her sister, and settling down next to her. "Do you want to eat?"

Katyusha nodded slowly, with the weariness unnatural for her age, or for any age. Nat broke the unleavened bread, gathered the meat curry, and held it to Katyusha's lips. Katyusha closed her lips around Nat's fingertips, and slowly chewed the food.

"Big Brother Ivan's going to play ice hockey in three days. Would you like to come with me?"

Katyusha slowly shook her head.

"It'll be fun. Big Brother and I've met a really nice lady. Her name's Wang Chun-Yan. We call her Miss Wang." Nat went on to describe every meeting she'd had with Miss Wang, leaving out the bits she thought would disturb her sister. She went on to talk about Matt, feeding Katyusha slowly, trying to cheer her up.

"A lot of people will be there. Matt told me Miss Wang will be taking a day off to see the tryouts. She'd love your company, Kat."

"You think so?"

Oh, but it broke her heart to see her sister torn apart, unable to sew together the pieces. "Yes. In fact, I think I can ask her to meet you today. You'd like that, _da_?"

Katyusha looked at Nat, and the hope in her eyes was enough for Nat to take the decision.

* * *

"Leaving already, aru?"

Ivan turned to Chun-Yan, and couldn't resist running his hand through her long, straight hair. "It's a crime to tie such beautiful hair, _da_?"

Chun-Yan laughed. "You are a lot of things, Ivan Braginsky, but I never took you to be a romantic, aru."

Something unknown washed through him as he slid his fingers to her face, caressing her cheeks, staring at her intently. Honestly, he didn't know such peace existed in the world. She caught hold of his hand in hers and brought it down, playing with his fingers as she tilted her head and looked at him curiously. "What is it, aru?"

He looked at their hands, and drew her slender palm to his mouth, planting a soft kiss in the centre. "Nothing."

Chun-Yan sat up completely, and raised her other hand to his cheek. "You're a"—

The phone rang, shattering their peace. Ivan turned to his phone, and looked at the caller-id. He picked up the phone, pressed 'Accept' and held it to his ear. "What is it, Natalia?" He frowned. "Me? I'm at Miss Wang's place…_da. Da._ No, I—fine. We'll be there." He turned to Chun-Yan. "Do you know a good interior designer?"

She wanted to smile, but his serious tone was something new to her. "I can call Kiku, aru. He's good at it."

"Get dressed. We're going to meet my family."

Chun-Yan wanted to determine who the elder one was between them, but the look in his eyes was something she recognized. Without a word, she got dressed in a long top and loose brown trousers, tying up her hair in a braid rather than buns. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and ran downstairs to see Mei in the kitchen.

"Mei, is Kiku up?" she asked.

"Honda!" Mei yelled in the general direction of his room, which was up. When she didn't get a response, she took the nearby broomstick and banged the ceiling of the kitchen. They both heard Kiku jolt out of bed and fall onto the floor. "Mei, _anata baka!_"

"Elder sister's calling you!" she yelled back, and resorted to muttering curse words at her elder sibling.

Chun-Yan shook her head, and walked to the living room, where she gathered her purse, keys and mobile phone—she distinctly remembered having put them in her coat and tossed them—actually, it was Ivan who tossed her coat somewhere. She blushed at the memory. She'd nearly torn his shirt in her haste to get her hands all over those hard muscles and hot flesh.

She put them into her pockets, then pulled on an overcoat, and walked to the stairs, waiting for Ivan and Kiku to join her.

Kiku came out first, yawning, pulling his white cotton shirt over his shoulder. "_Ohayo._"

She smiled at him, and grinned when he went and picked a fight with Mei. Ivan walked down, and smiled at her in confusion. "What's funny?"

"Them," she said, pointing at her younger siblings, one threatening to pour green tea down the other's back. "They always fought, even when they refused to talk to anyone else." She looked at him, and saw a mixture of politeness and urgency in his face. She turned to Kiku. "Kiku! We need to go, aru! Move it!"

With one last snarl at each other, the two siblings looked away huffily. Kiku bowed at Ivan, and looked at his sister. "Shall we leave?"

"Mei, I'll be late, aru! Take care of the restaurant, okay?"

"Yes, elder sister!"

The three of them loaded themselves into Ivan's car. While Kiku gaped at the interiors in awe, Ivan started the car, and drove off to his house.

"_Elder sister_?"

"Yes, Kiku."

"You were…very loud yesterday."

"Huh?" she said, and turned to Kiku, who was blushing madly. Realization struck, and she yelled at him in Chinese, blushing hotly. She turned around and let out a loud 'harrumph' in her seat, refusing to meet her brother's or her lover's eyes.

"Honda."

"Yes, Braginsky-san."

"She does more than…be very loud. But, as her brother, you don't need to know that, _da_?"

And Ivan, Chun-Yan realized, was even worse than Kiku was at being socially awkward.

They reached Ivan's house, and he saw Toris sitting at the doorstep. Ivan quickly parked, and hurried outside to his brother. Toris rose, the usual fear of his elder brother replaced by worry. "She's fine," he quickly confirmed. "They both are. Natalia wants to speak to you…who's that?"

"They can help."

Toris nodded at them. "I'm sorry for my rudeness. Please do come in."

"We apologize for our own, aru. I'm Wang Chun-Yan, and this is my brother"—

"Honda Kiku," Toris smiled at Kiku. "We've met before. Do come in."

Ivan was already inside, oblivious to the social niceties that his brother was taking care of. "Natalia!" he called out, and saw his sister at the head of the staircase. His eyes widened as his elder sister came into view.

"_Dobroye utro_, _brat_," Katyusha greeted her brother in a voice so soft it broke his heart. Still, he smiled at his elder sister, the light of his life. "Good morning, _starshaya sestra_. Did you have breakfast?"

She smiled at him. "_Da_." They walked down the stairs. Ivan embraced his elder sister as soon as she reached him. Nat moved around them, and nodded at Chun-Yan and Kiku. "Good morning," she said, and looked at Kiku. "Mr. Honda, are you good at interior designing?"

"I'm good with colours and textures. _Ane-san_ is a feng shui expert."

"Are you Miss Wang?"

Chun-Yan turned to the soft voice, and looked at Katyusha. Something inside her shook, and a thought flashed through her head—

_I could've become just like her, aru._

Chun-Yan nodded. "You must be Katyusha. It's nice to meet you, aru."

"I'm glad you are helping my _brat_. I'm grateful."

She looked from Ivan to Katyusha, flustered. "Oh, it's nothing, aru. He deserves it more than he thinks he does."

Ivan's eyes met Nat's, and an unspoken message passed between them. Ivan engaged his sister in conversation and took her to the living room, while Nat motioned them to be quiet and gestured them to follow her. As soon as they were out of earshot, Nat said, "I'm sorry if I disturbed your morn"—

"Katyusha, your sister…she's gone through a lot, hasn't she, aru?"

Nat turned, and blinked at the tone of Chun-Yan's voice. She expected a lot from the elder woman, but not…empathy. She nodded. "She keeps herself locked up in the room. She hasn't let any strangers in. Miss Wang, Mr. Honda"—

"You may call me Kiku-san, Natalia-sama."

Nat nodded. "I think she's ready to have someone change her…room. If she got out of that depressing place, I think that will help." She turned to Miss Wang. "I got her to agree to come for the tryouts. Miss Wang"—

"I'll keep her company, aru. And we'll do something about her room."

Chun-Yan was startled by the grateful smile she got from the younger girl. She didn't appear like she cared overmuch for humanity, but Chun-Yan could see her loyalty to her sister. And Chun-Yan knew she wouldn't let anyone near her sister unless it was absolutely necessary.

She saw Nat stop in front of a door, and take a shuddering breath. Alert, Chun-Yan braced herself, and next to her, Kiku did, too.

Kiku entered the room after Nat, and she heard him whisper, "_Nanite koto_."

Frowning, Chun-Yan entered, and felt the life drain out of her. "Aiya."

There were deep grooves in the walls where nails had torn out the very walls, and more than one wall had spotches of dried blood. Nothing had been spared—the mirror, the walls, the bed, the curtains, the tables, wood, stone, boards, cloth. From the little wallpaper that had still hung on the wall, she could see the green covered in dust and grime. She looked at the floor—once upon a time, it had been blue. Now it was sticky black at most places, and where the blue could be partially seen, there was a thick layer of dust coating it.

There were broken pieces all around the room—a broken vase, pieces of broken mirrors, ceramics, even cement off the walls. Chun-Yan felt her sanity slowly fade away. The curtains had gashes in them, bathing the dark room in an eerie light that reach only a few spots in the room.

"How long?" Chun-Yan whispered, her voice grated like over sandpaper.

"Ever since I was in high school."

"_Ane-san_…"

"_Shi_. Let us go outside."

Nat nodded, and the three of them got out of the room. While Nat closed the room, Chun-Yan did some quick thinking. She turned to Kiku. "Kiku, you're going to run the restaurant today, aru. If anyone asks, I'm not available, aru." She quickly ran downstairs, and found Ivan and Katyusha huddled near the fire. Katyusha looked at Miss Wang. "Ah. Miss Wang. Where"—

Chun-Yan drew closer to them, and sat down next to Katyusha. "You know, all my clothes are old and are falling apart, aru. I don't like shopping alone, so I've put it off for quite some time"—

"You do not have friends?"

Chun-Yan smiled grimly. "More like business associates, aru. I have a few friends, but I maintain irregular times. I run a restaurant, aru."

"Nat told me."

"Would you like to come shopping with me, aru?"

Katyusha cowered in fear, curling into herself. "I-I…_net_."

Chun-Yan wanted to console her, to comfort her, but she knew it would not be appreciated right now. "Why not?" Katyusha remained silent, so Chun-Yan took cues from her body language. "Are you afraid, aru?"

She nodded slowly.

"If you're afraid of somebody, aru, you don't have to worry. People are scared of me, aru. Ask your brother."

Katyusha turned to Ivan, who smiled wickedly. "Miss Wang has a reputation that has men and women running in the opposite direction, scared for their lives."

Katyusha turned to Miss Wang, who had the same smile on her face. "People think I can curse them."

"Can you?"

"My brother can, aru. I just scare them. No one will hurt you if you're with me, aru."

Katyusha looked at her with hope that tore her stomach apart. "When?"

"Right now, if you want, aru."

She slowly nodded. "_Da._ Okay. I will come. Do wait." Katyusha got up, and with an energy she didn't possess, ran out of the living room.

"Chun-Yan, what are you planning?"

Chun-Yan turned to Ivan, who had an expression of apprehension and anger in his eyes that his fake smile didn't quite cover up. "What do you"—

"You're a cunning woman, _da_? This isn't a random act of kindness."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not capable of a random act of kindess, aru?"

"Chun-Yan"—

"Don't bother, aru. I am cunning, as you say, a sly fox. But don't worry, aru. If I want to destroy you, Ivan Braginsky, I shall do it myself." She rose and walked out, calling out to her brother as she went, leaving Ivan wondering what it was that he felt for Wang Chun-Yan.

* * *

"You're late."

Nat looked up, and bared her teeth. "Go to hell,_ mudak_."

Alfred just raised an eyebrow as she walked past him, a murderous expression on her face. "Matthew Williams!"

"He isn't here"—

She spun around on him, forcing him to brake on his skates. "Why the hell are you here?" she growled, stabbing his chest with a finger.

"I work here."

"_I_ work here. _Matt_ works here. _That bearded pervert_ works here. Not you. Now where's Matt?" Not pleased with his response time, she spun around and stormed to the kitchen. "Where is Matt?"

"Training. _Mon cherie_"—

"I'm going"—

Francis grabbed her arm, and spun her around. When she struggled, he grabbed both her arms, and shook her lightly. "Nat. Natalia. What happened,_ ma fille_?"

She looked at him with desperate eyes. "I want to speak to Matt."

"You need to work, _cherie_. This can wait."

She looked at him, eyes ablaze, but both of them knew what was more important. She slumped, and he let go of her. "If you want, you could do kitchen work with me."

She shook her head. "I'm being immature. _Spasibo_." And she walked out, and walked into Alfred. "_Ublyudok_!" she muttered, and walked past him.

"I don't know what you said"—

Well, if she couldn't get comfort from Matt, she would take comfort from arguing with his _idiotskiye brata_.

And to hell with who got hurt.

* * *

Nat walked into Tino's stadium, and blinked at the number of people who had gathered. She had expected people—the past three days had seen more people training than there had been a week ago, but this…

The entire town had arrived for the tryouts.

Nat walked towards the ice-rink, and saw one of the Italian brothers harassing a small…blonde. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized which brother it was. Her fingers curled, itching to grab a chunk off Lovino Vargas's face.

She walked to Lovino, and growled at him, who, in return, snarled right back at her.

"Leave the girl alone, Vargas."

"Or what?"

"I'll have bits of your face under my fingernails."

Lovino paled. He knew what a street fighter Nat was, so with a haughty sneer, he turned around and walked into the ice-rink. She turned to the blonde. "You're alright, _da_?"

The emerald-eyed girl looked up at her. "Y-Yes…Thank you."

Nat eyed the conservative formal suit, and looked at the girl. "You're new around here."

She nodded. "H-Hello. I'm Lili Zwingli. I-I'm with my br"—

"_Schwester_!"

Nat felt something crawl up her spine at the sound of the voice. She turned around, and saw a blonde, green eyed man storming at the two of them. Her hackles rose.

"_Bruder_!" she said, and smiled the sweetest smile which, in Nat's opinion, was wasted on the man. For some reason, his irate state was making her irate. "I made a new friend"—

"Who are you?" he snapped at Nat.

Nat raised one eyebrow, her blue eyes narrowing dangerously. "Natalia Arlovskaya, someone who's ready to shoot you in the throat."

The Swiss blinked at her, then looked at his sister. "She's h-helped me, _bruder_."

The man turned to her. "Thank you."

Nat just nodded at him, and turned to Lili when she said, "I'd like to stay with her, _bruder_, if it's okay with you."

The man gave her a curt nod, and turned to Nat. "My name's Basch Zwingli. I'm her elder brother and guardian. Thank you for helping." With that, he turned around and walked away.

She shook her head. This place was teeming with weird characters. She looked at Lili, and said, "Let's go sit." Lili followed Nat, talking continuously which, at any other time, Nat would've bitten her head off for. But, seeing the way she handled that PMS-ing man, Nat knew she could handle someone like Nat with ease. Plus, she got to know more about that stick-in-his-arse man—he was the businessman Tino had reeled in to sponsor W City's team, which meant he had an equal say on who got onto the team. But by what Lili told her, Basch was a very neutral, goal-oriented person, which sent her mind to her own elder brother.

_Big brother Ivan_, she thought. _Please help him, Miss Wang_.

They sat down, and Lili waved to her brother, who raised his hand at her and waved , Nat admitted he loved his sister very much. She looked around, and people began filling in.

"_Ve_, _sorella maggiore_! It's Natalia!"

Nat knew that voice. In fact, she liked the owner of that voice very much, too. "Hey, Feli," she said, turning around and smiling at Feliciano Vargas and Elizabeta Héderváry. "Good morning, Elizabeta."

Eliza smiled at her. She was one of the few people who Nat really liked, and the feeling was mutual. Eliza and Feliciano moved towards getting the seats next Nat. "I met your anal brother outside," Nat said as they settled down.

Feliciano smiled. "That's why he's in a bad mood. Who's that lovely _signora_ next to you?"

"This is Lili Zwingli. She's the younger sister of that guy dressed in black and white."

Elizabeta and Feliciano introduced themselves, and Eliza's eyes moved to Lili's dress. Nat gestured Lili to exchange seats, and Eliza began her inspection of Lili's dress. Soon, they both were talking dresses and accessories and other sickeningly girly stuff—she liked to spend the allowance her brother gave, and Elizabeta owned a boutique in town.

Nat's eyes roamed around aimlessly, and they settled on the blonde hair sticking out from underneath a helmet. She turned to Lili. "Catch my seat." She ran down the bleachers and walked through the gate. "Matt."

He turned, and his sweet smile sent…something through her. She didn't know what. "Hey, Nat."

"G-Good luck."

He nodded, his sunny smile a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

"You'll do well. Don't waste all the evenings dragging me here."

Both of them remembered one such evening, and blushed. "I'll do that."

Something in Nat's gut clenched, and although her brain was screaming, _No, Natalia Arlovskaya, you _mudak_, don't do it_, she just felt like she had to do it. She looked everywhere—their eyes were on the rink. "Can you come with me?"

He turned to Ludwig Beilschmidt who had been sitting next to him. "I'll be back in a minute," he said, and Ludwig nodded. Matt walked behind her, all the way to the locker room. "Nat, wha"—

She lifted his helmet and brushed her lips across his. Matt forgot to close his eyes, but the brief contact…it was full of a tenderness he didn't know Nat possessed. She stood back, blushing hotly, her lips tingling. "F-For good luck," she said, and fled.

Matt touched his fingers to his lips, and smiled.

"It's starting! Quick!" Eliza hissed as Nat walked down the aisle.

"_Da, da_—_mudak_."

He just raised an eyebrow. "Good evening, Arlovskaya."

She glared at Alfred, and opened her mouth to let out a string of scathing words, but Eliza growled, "It's starting! Argue later!"

Nat took her seat, sandwiched between Lili Zwingli and Alfred Jones Bonnefoy. _Just my day,_ she fumed, eyes on the rink.

Tino had taken centre stage, and the entire stadium had quietened down. "All of you who've come for the tryouts or to support your family here, welcome. This is the first"—

"Did you get laid recently?"

Nat spun on Al, who was looking at her intently. "My sex life is of no concern to you, _mudak_. So keep away from me."

Al leaned back, a gleam in his eyes. A shudder of premonition ran through her, and an unbidden thought struck her—

_He is dangerous._

But she had no time to think about it as Tino had her attention again. "Everyone's going to be assigned a number, and we're going to draw lots. Two players will be allowed on the ice at a given time, and will have to score/defend a goal against their opponents—Peter Kirkland and Berwald Oxensternia"—

"Tino's serious."

She wanted to plaster Alfred's mouth, but he had her curious. "What do you mean?"

"Oxensternia's a fantastic player. He used to be known as 'Berwald 'the Ox' Oxensternia.' That's how he and Tino met. And they both train Peter regularly—he's a brat, but he's a fast one on the ice."

—"You're allowed choices, though"—

"We get to choose whom we play against?" Diego asked.

Tino smiled. "Not quite. You will play against both of them, but you get to choose who the goalie will be, or whether they'll be a goalie at all."

"Toughie."

Nat turned to Al. "What do you mean?"

"You see Berwald? He's known for crushing people on the ice. Put him as goalie, and you're assured none of your goals go in. And Peter's a trained goalie, but if you take him out of the goalie post, he's as fast as lightning."

Nat snorted. "What choices is he giving?"

Al smiled. "None."

"Are all the players in agreement with this?" Tino asked.

A loud 'Yes' answered him.

"Well, then," Tino said as the players were handed their cards. Someone brought him a bowl, out of which he picked up two cards. "Number 5 and…8."

All of them watched as Ludwig Beilschmidt and Honda Kiku got on the ice.

The tryouts had begun.

* * *

**A/N: It's quite long…I can't help it. Katyusha's problem has to be addressed, since it appears repeatedly in the next few chapters. But I promised the tryouts, and you got the tryouts…okay, just the beginning, but still!**

**Next time: Drama on the ice, and Matt shows what true sportsmanship is!**

**I'll try to cough this one out as soon as possible…my only excuses are I was working on an Ameripan called 'Pancakes for Kiku' and I'm learning classical music from my grandmother day and night…I try to write this as frequently as I can. I'll probably update once in two days, so bear with me!**

**I hope you liked this chapter—do tell me what you think. Reviews really make me very, very happy!**

**And yes, Gilbert's coming soon, so just wait…and that dudes/ice pros vs. chicks/air pros air hockey match will be up soon…can't wait to write that! ^^**

**R. K. Iris.**


	7. Side story 1: Yours sincerely, AK

**A/N: I am interrupting your regularly scheduled chapter print to give you this short and sweet love story which tells you what happened between my favourite couple in the whole world, Francis and Alice.**

**We all know how Alice is. She'd probably slit her throat before she told Francis she loved him. But thing was, she did. They'd met each other as penpals long before Francis joined W University and, well, become really popular. And ever since they started studying in the same place, they began putting letters in each others lockers (they knew each other's codes) rather than send their letters through the Pan Atlantic. **

**But, what could possibly be romantic to the most romantic guy in University?**

**Alice had an idea.**

* * *

_This one is for cyjanidybel, and Radium, even though the damn woman doesn't watch Hetalia...I love you, Radium, even though you torture me every time Icoughhaveacoughcrushcoughonacoughguy._ _Ahem. Bug in the air._

* * *

Yours Sincerely, A.K.

She was _not_ doing this.

She'd never done this before...She had never done this before. Everyone had crushes. Hell, there was a time when she found that Antonio guy cute...now he was just a dork.

She wanted to kill herself for doing this.

_This is the only way, Kirkland, so stiff upper lip!_

_To hell with your stiff upper lip! _she yelled at her mind, and looked back at the page. It wasn't much of a choice, shifting from her thoughts about that-that frog to the badly written poem she'd managed to cough out.

She peered at where that word appeared. Who the hell rhymed 'laugh' with 'cough'?

Alice groaned in apprehension. She did, bloody arse that she was.

OhGodOhGodOhGod. She was not going to be able to do this.

"Alice Kirkland, you _better not_ be having second thoughts."

Elizabeta Héderváry, Alice's best friend since diapers, sat on Alice's desk and peered down at her. "Alice, if you're not going to hurry up, he's going to come to an empty locker. Remember the last time you didn't reply?"

Oh, she remembered that. Francis had been in the worst mood that day, firing at everyone who came in his path. Alice, on Eliza's insistence, had quickly scrawled a note, and Francis had gone back to being his usual, outrageous, asinine self again.

"Okay, okay, fine. But Eliza"—

"No buts, Alice! You've liked this guy for"—

"Shh!"

—"_Years_ now. Just say it. It isn't going to kill you."

"But what if"—

"No buts, Alice! Now will you go give that damn note?!"

Alice sighed. If there was anyone who could push her over, it was her loud, unabashed, tomboyish best friend. "Fine. But if he"—

"Oh, you guys have been sending each other letters since you were _six_. I'm pretty sure he'd love to see whom it is that he tells everything to. Now _move_!"

"Fine, fine! Don't get your Wellies in a twist!" Alice muttered, and quickly made her way to his locker, praying to all the Gods—Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, everyone—she could possibly think of. She turned in his key, gave the letter one last kiss, put it in, and fled.

Now, by the 1800 Gods she'd prayed to, if this didn't work, she'd...she'd...

She'd still be in love with him.

* * *

Francis whistled as he walked. He always did, but this was a tune only he and she knew. It was to let her know that he was coming. Even after so long, she still liked keeping her identity a secret—he only knew her as A.K. When he'd joined W University, the first thing he did was go through the registers for everyone with the initials A.K. And then he asked her if she was a guy or a girl. Still, it didn't really narrow things down...But it didn't really matter. He trusted her with everything, and even after two years of University, when none of anything he'd ever told her had come out, he trusted her even more.

He walked to the locker, and frowned. He must've missed her by seconds, for the locker was open. He smiled when he saw the note, but frowned. It was in an envelope. A red envelope. Was it...?

It was from her. He knew that awful handwriting anywhere. But why was it red?

He opened it, and slipped out the letter.

'_For Francis Bonnefoy's eyes only. I will bloody gut you if you aren't Francis Bonnefoy._'

He chuckled, but the niggling doubt still remained. He quickly opened the letter, and gaped.

_For, Francis Bonnefoy._

_-q-_

_I suck at writing poems_

_I'll admit to that truth_

_But Francis Bonnefoy, you git_

_I think I'm in love with you._

_-q-_

_You're an outrageous flirt_

_And high as if on drugs_

_You think _I_ have bad taste_

_When I chose that purple rug (It's cute!)_

_-q-_

_You'll be dead if you bring it up_

_And I won't say as much_

_But, Bonnefoy, you pompous arse_

_I love you very much_

_-q-_

_You make wonderful pastries_

_but hate the scones I bake_

_How you could hate English food_

_My mind can't understand or make_

_-q-_

_sense of that, or how you think_

_it's normal to say, "Pass the butter."_

_But when you let out that asinine laugh_

_I just want to push you in a gutter_

_-q-_

_They call you "Most Romantic Male"_

_Which makes me want to laugh._

_But you damn frog, I love you. So_

_what kind o' magic have you coughed? (Tell me!)_

_-q-_

_Maybe I'll lengthen this poem,_

_so there's more to choke you with._

_I feel so lost now, Francis_

_what have you done to me, you git?_

_-q-_

_You're going to pay up_

_For making me feel this way._

_Come to the rooftop of_

_Block A—what do you say?_

_Yours sincerely,_

_A.K._

She was...?

His hand came over his mouth as he laughed in disbelief. _He_ was the most romantic person in the University—in the goddamned world, but she...

She had just outdone him in the best way possible.

* * *

Francis blinked. "Elizabeta?"

She turned, and smiled. "Oh, you're here."

His eyes narrowed. "You are _not_ A.K., _mon ami_."

Eliza laughed. "Well, I wouldn't be her, looking at how tense she is right now." Her smile turned softer, imploring. "Francis...she might say something really dumb, but she really, really loves you. She's been in love with you for the past two years. So, don't break her heart. Please."

Something clicked in Francis's head. "She's..."

Eliza smiled and walked past him. "Good luck."

Francis was in a daze. _Impossible._ This was not happening. It couldn't be her. It just couldn't...

He pushed through the door, and saw Alice Kirkland there. But his feet didn't stop—he walked to the girl he always fought with, the girl who was talking her mouth off, the girl who was blushing madly, the girl whom his eyes always seemed to find first in a room, the girl...his girl.

_Mon cherie._

She was talking, but he couldn't hear her. He was deaf, oblivious. Alice Kirkland was in love with him, A.K. was in love with him, he was in love with his A.K., with the untouchable, impossibly far away Alice Kirkland. The standoffish, unbelievably rude, fighter-cock, bookwormish Alice Kirkland.

His _belle, belle_ Alice.

He stopped right in front of her, and even though the pounding in his ear increased, he could hear her.

"Why the hell aren't you _saying_ anything, you git?" she whispered desperately. She wanted to yell, wanted to hit him, but he...he'd stormed right to her with that intent look on his face, and the expression in his eyes had trapped her, making her a mass of blabbering nonsense.

He removed her glasses. "Alice. _Ma belle_ Alice. Why didn't you"—

"What could I have said?"

He didn't know why he was still talking. He didn't know why _she _was still talking—why those beautiful lips weren't under his.

"You've beaten me at my own game, _ma ruse _Alice." His finger ran along the length of her cheek. "Ask me something. Anything."

"I-Is my love...unrequited?"

He couldn't stand it anymore—He leaned forward, and whispered over her mouth, inches from his own. "No."

She came up to meet him halfway, her soft lips sending lust running through him. His arm curved underneath her derriere, and he hefted her up. Her legs curled around his waist and her lips melded with his own, desperately seeking what she'd been denied for so long.

They kissed, loudly, noisily, hungrily, lust pounding through both of them. He parted, ran his tongue down her wet chin—she moaned and recaptured his tongue, thrust her own into his mouth, ravaging, plundering, pushing him to feel the urgency that was going through her. His hands flew to her hair—she'd braided it, but he quickly made short work of undoing it. His fingers ran, tangled in her hair, and gently drew her head back. With a groan of frustration she followed the command of his hand, and hissed when his mouth found the tender skin above her pulse.

"Fran—oh!"

He nibbled at her throat, and moved downwards, groaning at the cloth that kept him from exploring her hot, silky skin. "I want you, _ma cherie._ I want you so bad it hurts." He pressed her against the fenced wall, supporting her with one arm, unbuttoning her blouse with the other.

"N-Not here, you bloody frog..." she bit out, grinding her teeth against the sensations that were rocking her to the edge. "S-Someone's g-gonna come..."

His frenzy increased, but his mind took over. There would be serious repercussions if they were found out. As the situation began dawning to him, he began mentally cursing himself. They were on a rooftop—anyone could see them from below, anyone could make out what was going on. Anyone could walk in. He didn't care as much for himself as he did for Alice. Alice had big plans in life—she wanted to do so much for the school, for other people. He couldn't just cut her short because he couldn't hold himself in his pants long enough.

He cupped her face, kissed her long and hard. "We're going to continue this at my place," he whispered. "I've waited for this ever since I laid my eyes on you Alice. Don't break my heart, _mon cherie._"

Her emerald green eyes locked into his, and he saw the truth. Slowly, gently, he asked, "Am I going too fast for you?"

The hasty shake of her head made him chuckle. "Don't worry, _mon cherie_, I'll go to whatever pace you want. But, do you want to do it? Truly?"

Her emerald eyes turned to his, and he felt himself sink into them. "Yes."

He slowly buttoned up her blouse, and helped her up. "Let's go, then."

* * *

Alice couldn't help but gape at the flat. It was so...

Clean. Unlike her own. White. Extravagant. Spacious.

Completely unlike her own.

Francis hung his coat and bag, and took her own. "You like it?

She dragged herself to a painting, and ran her hand over it in disbelief. It was of this small house on a hill of flowers, surrounded by hills of green on a backdrop of a sky done in hues of gold and orange.

She felt Francis come up from behind her, but she couldn't stop admiring the strokes, the colours, the vividity of the very painting that brought the scenes of days long past back to life. She felt his hand on her waist, and he turned her around. She looked into his blue eyes, but they seemed so far away—

_Compared to what you'd been doing thirty minutes ago, they _are_ quite far away, Alice Kirkland._

She blushed, and revelled in the heat, the feel of his fingers moving over her cheek. "Do you want to know what that painting reminds me of, _ma fille_?"

"France?" she asked. _Come closer, a little more closer..._She knew how much he loved his home country.

"No. You."

She couldn't help it. She laughed in his face.

He closed his eyes in irritation as she laughed and laughed. "_Ma cherie_, don't laugh when I"—

"Francis, that's ridiculous, even for you." She saw his eyebrow rise, and spluttered in mirth. "I mean, look at the painting! It's so vivid, so alive...it's so beautiful. I'm nothing like that."

His features set into a determined look. He exhaled, then bent down and swooped her up, over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Francis, you bloody frog, _let me go_!" He ignored the pounding on his back, and began whistling to make his nonchalance more pointed. He opened the door to his bedroom, walked in, closed it behind him and walked to the bed, unloading her off his shoulder as soon as he got there. She squealed and got onto her elbows, ready to blast him with a tirade, but the stern, almost angry expression on his face cut her off.

He yanked his tie off, threw it in some random direction. He unbuttoned his shirt, undid his pants, and even pulled down his boxers—and Alice stopped following the motions of his hands and instead put her eyes on the deliciously inviting space between his collarbones. She just wanted to...to bite him. Right there.

Wait, _what_?

He cleared his throat, and she found herself looking into his blue eyes. The stern expression was still there, but another emotion...

She yelped as he leaped into bed and positioned himself over her. He quickly began undoing the buttons on her shirt. "You really don't know how beautiful you are, do you, _mon idiot_ Alice?" Ignoring her yelp of protest as he pulled off her blouse, he determinedly grabbed hold of her vest, and pulled it right off.

And found himself blinking. "Alice?"

She was blushing till the roots of her blonde hair. "What?"

"Why aren't you wearing a bra?"

She blushed and looked away.

"Do you have any idea what I want to do to you right now, Alice?"

Her hand rose to her mouth, her fist over her lips, and she nodded.

"Do you always not"—

"Of course not, you bloody frog!" she yelled, pushing him off her, getting up. "We had swimming today, and mine...mine got drenched. And I couldn't wear a wet one, which is absolutely"—

"Hot?"

—"ridiculous," she said. "And uncomfortable. And"—

"One of these days, _mon cherie_, I'm going to take you to the showers, drench you completely and make love to you."

"S-S-Sh-Shut up!" she said, closing her eyes tightly. He raised her head. "Look at me, _mon amour_. Alice, look at me." She raised her eyes to his. "Do you want to do this? I need to know if you truly"—

She got off the bed, and got up. She faced him, but when her blush threatened to overtake the angry look she was trying to maintain, she huffed and turned around, putting Francis at a complete loss as to what was going on.

She unbuckled her belt, and let it drop on the ground.

Francis's heart started pounding faster.

She undid the buttons on her skirt, turning to look at them better, giving Francis a look of her heated, focussed face. _Oh baiser,_ but he was getting harder.

She let the skirt fall to the ground, and peeled off the white shorts she was wearing underneath them. Francis inched closer to the edge of the bed. This was surely not...She wasn't...

Blue. She was wearing blue underwear.

She straightened, exhaled in a short and heavy burst, hooked her fingers into the waistband, and peeled it right off.

Francis was going to burst.

She lifted her foot and peeled off her socks, one by one, and threw them in the pool of clothing that was lying on the ground. "F-Francis."

He grunted. He couldn't say anything. His brain was yellow mush.

"Get up."

He got up as slowly as he could, making sure his legs weren't feeling like jelly.

"Come here."

He walked to her, hands instinctively reaching to embrace her, but she shook her head. "No. Just stand there. Don't do anything unless...I tell you to."

He gulped, and walked up to her, her back to him.

She turned around, and reached out to him. Her hands moved from his waist upwards to his back, gripping onto his shoulders. Her entire body pressed into him—her thighs to his thighs, her breasts to his chest, skin to hot skin, flesh to flesh. She shifted, and he let out a guttural groan as his hard dick nestled between her thighs.

Her hands ran down his back, over his chest, and curled around his nape, pulling her impossibly closer to him.

"Francis."

"Alice," he growled out.

"Kiss me. Now."

He bent down, captured her mouth in his.

And everything else ceased to matter.

* * *

"Oi, Francis?"

Francis smoothed down the paper as his eyes fell on the last line of the poem, and turned to the door, where his wife was standing, phone in hand.

"I saw the dinner on the table...where were you?"

Francis smiled at his beautiful Alice. "Reading. Remember this?"

"I"—She smiled in surprise. "You still have this?"

"I wouldn't let go of this even if it was the only thing I had left, _mon amour_."

Alice sat down across his lap, and placed her arms over his shoulder. "How about we do that thing? The shower thing?"

Francis grinned wickedly. After that first time, Francis had managed to tease out the sex kitten in Alice Kirkland—and even after so many years of being a Bonnefoy, the tiger refused to stay down.

"We need to have dinner, _ma femme cherie_." She bent down and started nibbling on his earlobe, eliciting a groan from his lips. "Alice..."

"I want to eat _you_," she whispered, and moaned as his hands curved over her breasts.

"Tonight"—

"On the dinner table."

He chuckled, and felt her shiver as he squeezed. "What do you suggest? Locking the children in their rooms?"

"They need to get laid. Let's lock them in their rooms."

Francis laughed, and cupped her face. "_Je t'aime, ma cherie _Alice."

She smiled tenderly at him, and told him the only french words he managed to teach the briton. "_Je t'aime, ma cherie_ Francis."

* * *

**A/N: I wanted to actually put this somewhere later, or separately, but...you guys deserve to read this, the awesome people who're reading and following and reviewing 'My Friend Natalia' and being so awesome and dear to me. I hope you liked this little bit of heat!**

**The reason why this came up was...coughihavecoughacrushcoughonthisguychough.**

**And I can't do anything about it except...write this.**

**So if you enjoyed this, let me know—at least someone enjoys the products of my negligible and pathetic love life... T-T.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	8. Chapter 7: The Tryouts

**A/N: I cried. I honestly cried…ask my best friend, Austin (he's on FP, though) and then I couldn't stop laughing.**

**Six-effing-teen effing reviews.**

**I am in heaven.**

**Thank you I'veMadeItMyOTP, Cyjanidybel and the awesome Dark Void Princess 21…check out her 'History of Canada – A forgotten Nation', and 'Miss Independent' by I'veMadeItMyOTP. Trust me, you won't regret it. DV Princess's written a lot more, but I haven't watched most of it except Hetalia…I'm so sad.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia…if I did, Shinatty-san would have a special, ten minute episode to himself where we did nothing except look at him eat bamboo and claw out fake-Shinatty (Russia, lol)'s face.**

* * *

_This one's for you, Dark Void Princess 21, for giving me the idea of a threesome—PruHunMapleSyrup. I love you!_

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 7

At once, roars erupted from the bleachers. Chun-Yan and her younger siblings rose to their feet. "Go Kiku!" they all roared at once.

"Is that your brother?" Katyusha asked as they settled down.

Chun-Yan grinned, and turned to Kat. "_Shi_. He's the eldest after me, aru. He's a good sportsman. I'm very proud of him, aru."

Kat smiled genuinely, stunning Chun-Yan. Chun-Yan had never expected the eldest Russian sibling to be so…beautiful. "We elder sisters are always proud of our _brats_, Miss Wang. It is but who we are."

Chun-Yan nodded, and turned back to the rink.

On another side, Eliza and Feli were yelling at Ludwig to do his best. Nat leaned away from both of them, but kept as much distance from Alfred as possible.

"Beilschmidt, you can do this!" the Hungarian cried out.

"Ludwig, if you get in, _avrò sesso con te_!"

Eliza whirled round on the cheering Italian, and screamed, "_What_?"

Lovino, sitting two rows behind them, got up and yelled, "You will do no such thing!"

Ludwig just blinked at what his best friend had said, then became beet-red. Kiku, who'd learnt Italian from his multi-lingual younger sister, blushed as well, and turned to Ludwig. "Pardon me, but are you guys dating?"

"He has guts," Ludwig muttered through clenched teeth, and sighed heavily. "It's complicated."

Kiku just nodded while thinking, _Not anymore, since he just screamed 'I'll have sex with you' in front of an entire stadium_. Kiku shrugged. _These western ways are very confusing_.

"Well, shall we play, Beilschmidt-san?"

"Yes, Honda," Ludwig said, and turned to Tino.

"What's it going to be, _pojat_? What choice shall you make?"

Kiku and Ludwig looked at each other. "I leave it to you, Beilschmidt-san," Kiku said.

"Alright, then. We shall opt for Peter Kirkland as Goalkeeper," Ludwig said.

Tino nodded. "Begin as soon as I drop the puck. And keep to the attacking zone—we want this short. I'll give you three minutes to make a goal. Acceptable?" Ludwig and Kiku nodded, and put on their helmets.

Tino walked to the sidelines for the puck, but Berwald intercepted him. "I w'nt my good luck k'ss, w'fe."

Tino blinked. "You don't need good luck."

"I want a good luck kiss, too!" Peter said, skating up to them. Tino sighed. His family was crazy. He leaned down, and kissed his son's golden locks. "Good luck, _poika_."

"Thanks, mumsy," Peter said. Tino wanted to growl at his son, but the utter delight on the boy's face stopped him. He turned to Berwald. "Berwald, you're being unreasonable."

"I need th' k'ss."

Tino stabbed Berwald's padded chest with his finger. "Now you listen here. You don't need good luck, and I'm not going to kiss you in front of all these people!" he hissed.

"I l've you, Tino."

Tino blinked, taken aback, and sighed. He knew what his husband was doing, and he knew he was playing on Tino's biggest weakness—he couldn't say no to Berwald when he said that. Tino turned to the bleachers. "My apologies for the unprofessional behaviour that's about to take place!" he yelled, and the stadium quietened down at once.

Before he lost his cool, Tino spun around, grabbed Berwald by the nape and brought his mouth down. Berwald dropped his hockey stick and clasped Tino's head in one hand, tilting his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue finding that spot in Tino's mouth—

Tino moaned softly into his mouth, and a thrill of delight ran through Berwald. He ran his tongue over that spot again, and could feel his wife melting into him. Just a little bit more…

Tino realized what his husband was doing, and with a quick nip to Berwald's lip, drew his tongue inside and parted, his eyes locking with Berwald's bright blue ones. "You have woven magic over me, _kultaseni_."

"_Jag älskar dig_, Tino. I l've you."

The roaring in Tino's ear stopped, and he could hear the raunchy cheering of the crowd. Blushing, he pushed his husband away and moved over to the edge of the ice, where the Swiss was standing. At the curious look he was receiving, Tino quickly said, "He's my husband."

"Oh."

He took the puck and sped off towards the faceoff spot in the neutral zone, where Berwald, dressed in a black jersey, was standing alone in the faceoff spot. Ludwig, in his green jersey was talking to Kiku, dressed in blue.

"What do you think?" Tino said, watching his husband look at the players on the benches.

Berwald shrugged. "S'me good pl'yers. We need at least t'n good pl'yers."

Tino nodded. "Some new guys, too…Ivan Braginsky, isn't it?"

"Nat's br'ther. Must be br've or st'pid, c'ming 'ere like this."

Tino looked at the lone player for a while, then turned to the two on the ice. "You _pojat_ ready?"

They nodded, and skated over. The German positioned himself next to Berwald, Kiku right behind him. Tino dropped the puck, Ludwig won the faceoff, passed Kiku. Ludwig realized that Berwald never even made an attempt to get the puck.

Panic made his heart beat faster as Ludwig realized he'd been behind Kiku all this time. Berwald moved back, spun quickly and sped off behind them.

Kiku was holding his own, moving fast, dangling, manoeuvring, his control over the puck extraordinary. He raised his head, found Ludwig speeding over to the side, and grunted. Ludwig would probably be more useful if he put himself where Kiku could pass to him. "Move to the left wing!" Kiku yelled, and let it rip.

Ludwig gave chase to the puck, grabbed control, and moved towards the goal. Kiku tried to speed over, but Berwald knocked him into the boards and sped towards Ludwig, delaying Kiku by precious seconds.

Ludwig mohawked, saw Berwald coming over to where he was. With a growl, he crouched and took a shot towards the goal.

* * *

"Save!" Diego whispered, sitting next to Matt. "They're good, but no coordination."

Matt didn't reply, and Diego didn't expect him to. Matt was lost in his silence, thinking about nothing, like he usually did before going to play. Diego loved to talk, so until he realized that it was a habit of Matt, he'd always pouted and tried his best to talk Matt's ears off. But Diego learnt quickly, and occasionally did a monologue, seated next to Matt.

Diego looked around Matt, and his eyes fell on Ivan. Diego frowned. He'd never met the fellow before, but he'd heard a lot about Braginsky. Diego really didn't mind—he was born and raised on that side of town, too, but since he'd been here since a young boy, people had warmed up to the Cuban. Diego had to hide his malignance behind a veneer of talk and bustle, but Ivan made no attempt, from the beginning, to hide exactly how dangerous he was.

By a lot of people, he'd mellowed down considerably, but that didn't stop people from dragging out old skeletons and examining the wounds to the point of making them larger.

_But if he's Natalia's elder brother, surely he can't be that bad_, Diego thought. "Can he?"

"Huh?"

Diego blinked at a dazed Matt. "No, just thinking about Nat's brother there."

Matt just stared at Diego, wondering which language he was talking in. Finally, he said, "Miss Wang says he's amazing at ice hockey."

"He might be good, _amigo_, but will anyone agree to play with him?"

He'd lost Matt's attention, he realized as Matt went back to staring at the ice. Diego shrugged. Oh well. At least he was still alive.

He turned to the ice. By his calculations, three minutes were up, and he hadn't heard the blare of a goal.

Tino blew the whistle, and everyone came to a stop on the ice. Berwald and Peter moved to Tino; a tired Ludwig and an equally drained Kiku followed.

"Alright," Tino said. "I talked to Mr. Zwingli here, and he thinks your both fine players." At the resultant cheer, Tino held up his hand, silencing the crowd. "Personally, I've found a lot of mistakes in your form. Ludwig Beilschmidt, if I had been refereeing right now, I would've called you on that foul. And Honda, your stick-handling needs to improve. But mistakes can be corrected, so I'm putting you on the waiting list. You guys may sit on that bench over there."

"Go Kiku!" Mei yelled, getting up at the same time as Feliciano rose and yelled, "Go Ludwig!"

Tino put his hand into the lots again, and drew out two cards. "Okay, then. Is the Oxensternia family ready?"

Berwald gulped down some water, handed it to his son, who drank and gave it back. They both looked at Tino and nodded. Tino looked at the cards in his hand, and called out, "Numbers 7 and…4. 7 and 4, on the ice."

Al brightened as number 7 stepped up. "Go Aaron Brynson!" he yelled.

"You know that guy?" Nat asked.

Al smiled at her, and turned to the ice. "He's a really good player. He isn't fast, but…oh, snap."

Nat frowned, and noticed how the entire stadium had gone silent. She turned to the ice, and saw why.

Ivan Braginsky, number 4, had gotten onto the ice.

At once, whispers broke out—assumptions, contemplative, thoughtful, but to Nat, they were all the same. Incinerating, damning, condemning. That was what everyone truly meant whenever they saw a Russian sibling take the spotlight.

And this time, it wasn't going to be any different.

Tino broke the silence. "Okay, then. Did you guys warm"—

"I'm not playing with him!"

Silence dawned at Aaron Brynson's yell, and everyone looked at him.

_What the fuck is he doing_? Nat asked herself.

_Only what everyone else has always wanted,_ was the answer she got. Her head drained of thoughts, of courage, of support, and she felt herself being transported back to the days where people laughed at her accent, at her appearance, at her name, at her, at everything—those cold, cold days where everyone just seemed to hate, hate and hate.

"Brynson, what are you"—

"Coach, I have utmost respect for you, but I'm not playing with this-this…_monster_! Do you know how many people he's destroyed? How many lives he's taken? He's complete evil"—

"Brynson"—

"Coach, I"—

He stopped as a heavy hand placed itself on his shoulder, and turned around, paling visibly when he saw Berwald glowering, truly glowering at him. "Th's is th' ice. Tino is th' only one wh' can speak."

That silenced Brynson, but he turned to Tino with angry, imploring eyes. Tino wanted to bash the boy's head open, but reined in his temper. "Berwald's right. This is the ice, Brynson. On the ice, you're a player—either the opponent or a comrade. You aren't good, you aren't evil, and you aren't a monster. Such things are off the"—

"He'd rather hit me with his hockey stick, Coach!" Brynson yelled.

Tino's eyes narrowed. "Then get off the ice."

Brynson blinked, aghast. "Coach, you aren't"—His eyes turned hard and mean. "I see what you're doing. I see what this is all about. You're scared of the Russian, too, aren't you? He's got something over you"—

"Is that why you're scared?" Peter asked, rolling up to them, his voice carrying clearly over to everyone present. "Because you've done something wrong and he knows?"

Brynson looked at Peter, mouth agape, spluttering, trying to find an answer to the child's question. With an expression of disgust, he looked at all of them. "Fine. Keep the Russian. I'm not playing with him, and let me see who does," he said, and got off the ice.

"Talk about drama on the ice," Tino muttered, and turned to the remaining seated ones. "We need one more of you here. Any volunteers?"

Silence.

Ivan shook his head, and closed his eyes, locking himself away into a land that was endlessly cold, where the Sun shone weakly and the darkness suffocated everything. He often escaped to that land, sometimes voluntarily, sometimes involuntarily. The marrow-freezing cold made the pain of life easier to bear. He let the cold of his childhood days wash over him, the darkness of those days fall over his eyes, blanketing him, locking him away from the harsh words and the judgemental gazes of people who would be satisfied with nothing more than his dead body, which they would take and hang over the gates of the city.

He was used to this. So why did it hurt so much now? Why had it become so unbearable, suddenly? Maybe it was because of Chun-Yan's trust in him. Maybe because it felt as if he was failing their trust. Katyusha, his_ sestra_, was watching. He wanted to make her happy, but in a land where the pain of the harsh cold came from gazes and voices and not from nature, it wasn't possible to provide his sister happiness.

Maybe he'd lose himself in this cold…maybe he'd lose—

He heard the _shhh_ of skates stopping near him. His purple eyes flew open, and he looked at the player standing next to him.

"I'm playing."

Tino smiled. "Well, well. If it isn't the Master of the Ice."

Ivan blinked. Was this his sister's best friend? Was this the same shy, near-invisible boy who would probably run in the other direction if Ivan so much as _smiled_ at him? Did he want to play by _Ivan_'s side?

"_Are you serious_?"

Ivan blinked upon having his thoughts translated into words, but it wasn't his doing. Aaron, who'd apparently been removing his protection pads, turned to see Matthew Williams Bonnefoy standing right next to Ivan Braginsky.

Matt turned to Aaron and smiled, but it wasn't his usual cheery, sunshine-filled smile. It dared Brynson to try and touch him while he was in the rink. "I like to play."

"He isn't called the 'Master of the Ice' because he likes to forfeit, you know," Peter said, and stuck his tongue out at Aaron.

"I can't _believe_ this! You're a Bonnefoy! Why the hell are you supporting that Russian? You hate their guts!"

"What?" Francis managed to say before Alice got up and yelled, "You bloody wanker, get the hell out!" and Francis had to spend the rest of his attention in preventing Alice from gouging that guy's eyes out.

"Aaron Brynson, you were leaving. So _leave_," Tino said.

"I know why he's doing this! It's that sister of his, isn't it? That Russian slut"—

And a puck knocked him out cold.

All of them just blinked in surprise, and looked at Tino. He was still holding the puck they'd been using during the first round, but Tino was doing something he hadn't done ever since Brynson had gotten on the ice.

He was _smiling_.

"More than this _mistvieh_, the person who taught him to talk about a woman like that should be killed by a mob. Get this…thing out of my awesome presence."

"Gilbert, you're late!" Tino called out, still smiling.

The tall, silver haired man appeared from behind the fallen American, his crimson red eyes dismissing Aaron Brynson as a waste of his time. "I can _never _be late, Tino-man! I'm simply…awesome," he said, walking over. He took a good look at the remaining contenders, and turned to them. "If anyone else is going to be like that unawesome _schwien_, I suggest you leave before I grab hold of you, cut you into tiny little pieces and feed you to my _jüngeren bruder_, West's dogs." He frowned. "Where is West?"

Ludwig sighed. This was not going to go well for him. "Here, _bruder_."

"Oh. West. Why are you sitting there? It is not awesome to sit away like that."

"He's cleared it"—

Tino cleared his throat and turned away from Gilbert hugging, cooing and basically embarrassing the daylights out of his younger brother, and turned to Ivan and Matt. "Alright, what are you going to choose?"

Ivan turned to Matt—it was a weird sensation for one who always made the decisions to turn to another person. Matt was already looking at Ivan, a contemplative look in his eyes.

Then, Matt gave a small, naughty smile.

Ivan blinked. "You're joking, comrade."

Matt just smiled a little bit more.

"You're joking, _da_?"

"_Net._"

Ivan looked at Matt as if he'd told him he liked Nat's Harley over his Vespa, then saw where Matt was going with that. "Alright, comrade, as you wish." Ivan pulled his helmet on. Tino turned to Matt, who said, "Both of them on the ice."

Tino blinked. "Are you sure, _poika_?"

"Oh, I think we can handle them," Matt said nonchalantly, stunning everyone who heard him—and saw him—into silence. He turned to Ivan. "Right, comrade?"

This guy was full of more surprises than Wang Chun-Yan, Ivan decided as Matt pulled on his helmet. "_Da._"

"Stick to your offensive and neutral zones, and start at the neutral faceoff spot. Since there isn't a goalkeeper, it depends on who gets a goal first," Tino said. "Join us as soon as you're ready."

Ivan turned to Matt. "What's the plan?"

"I'm fast," Matt said. "Berwald, seasoned as he is, will be searching for openings. Keep the puck close, dangle, pass only when you have to. For your built, I think you can take Berwald on. I can distract Peter, light the lamp."

Ivan chuckled. "A very well formulated plan, _da_?"

Matt just smiled, and Ivan felt the chill slowly dissipate. There was something about Matthew Williams that was dragging every one of them Russians in, and Ivan found out he liked that very much.

Matt moved over to the faceoff spot, and gestured to Ivan to take the faceoff. Ivan looked at Berwald, and took on the bland expression on his opponent's face.

"Ready?"

Ivan lowered his stick, and got ready.

Tino dropped the puck. Ivan got to the puck first, passed it to Matt, and moved behind Berwald towards the goal, his eyes on Matt's movements, his ears on Berwald. Matt saw Peter advancing towards him, mohawked, passed to Ivan who was on the other side of the blue line, and braced himself for having Peter crash into him.

Peter didn't crash into him—he didn't even touch him. He spun around him, and followed as Matt chased the puck.

Berwald intercepted, stole, sped toward the goal. Ivan chased, moved from behind, tried to steal the puck from his right. Berwald spun, tensed and let the puck fly to Peter. Peter sped up, faster than Matt, but Matt cut from around, following the line of the puck, and caught up to it the same time Peter did.

The smaller player was faster than Matt, but Matt had his size. Using momentum, he drove into Peter, sending him to the boards. He quickly regained balance, moved back and spun, grabbing control of the puck.

"Comrade!"

*x*

Nat watched as they flashed across the rink. "It's so fast," she said breathlessly, watching the red of Matt's jersey streak across and flash between the black of the Oxensternia family, occasionally moving up to the white of her brother's jersey.

Al grinned. "He's at the top of his game."

"How come you didn't go for the tryouts?" Nat asked, eyes still on the action.

Al leaned back and folded his arms, hands behind his head. "More of a football person. Besides, Matt's first love is ice-hockey."

Something about that comment rubbed Nat's insides abrasively. Reluctantly, but because she had to, she turned to Al. "You think by playing ice hockey, you will somehow reduce Matt's potency?" Al opened his mouth, but she cut him off. "How very arrogant of you, _mudak_. How utterly arrogant of you."

"Now, you look here"—

"I'd rather look at a man who's doing something rather at a man who talks empty," she said, and turned to the ice again.

*x*

_Persistant _mudak_, _Ivan thought as he tried to move around Berwald, but the damn man was behind his tail. Ivan moved behind the goal, ears on Berwald, trying to figure out how—

Berwald's hip check forced him into the boards, losing control of the puck. Shaking his head more at the shock of the force than at the pain, Ivan struck out, but it was too late.

Berwald let a saucer pass at Peter. Ivan moved forward, skidded to a stop behind Berwald, turned and sped, trying to move in front of the goal. Berwald moved in from the other side, ready to block Ivan in case he tried to negate Peter's chances—

"Dad!"

Berwald turned at the sound of his son's frantic yell, but didn't have time to react—he could just watch as Matt moved in front of Peter, stopped the puck with his open-faced end, and took a shot.

_Bllaar!_

Berwald's breath hissed out of him, and he didn't even realize Ivan speeding to Matt, grabbing his comrade in a hug. The sound of their jubilant laughter snapped him out of his astonishment, and he relaxed. He turned to his son, who had been pulled into the celebration by Ivan, and was lifted, his feet dangling as he was sandwiched by the two bigger players.

He smiled, and moved over to the celebrating trio, who turned to face Berwald as he came. "Good g'me, boys. Pro'd 'f you."

"You play well, Matthew, even with that old hag for a parent," Peter said, and Matt put him to his feet, laughing. "My mother will have something to say about that, Peter."

Ivan turned to Matt. "That was some quick thinking—and moving, comrade."

Matt laughed. "Yeah…well, you were tied up…but if Berwald hadn't seen you running to defend, he wouldn't have followed, so…well played, Ivan."

Ivan smiled, and they all turned to Peter, who was brimming over with the details. "Did you see the way Ivan played you, dad? His stick-handling's awesome! And Matthew, dad, wasn't he quick? He was as quick as _me_!"

"Modest kid," Ivan muttered, and Matt chuckled. "He does have a point, though," Matt said, removing his helmet. "At the speeds he was travelling, any other player would've run into me. Peter moved around me as if…still, if he hadn't been so caught up looking at you, he would've probably seen me go out front. He's really taken by you. And," Matt said, looking up, "They all are, too."

Ivan looked up, and his eyes widened as he saw people standing and cheering at them. At _him_.

"They're cheering for you, comrade. They're calling your name."

And so they were. People were yelling out "Good play, Braginsky!" and "Go Ivan!" And it wasn't only his siblings, or Chun-Yan. People he'd never met, people who despised him, they were clapping. They were cheering. For him.

Ivan felt his breath shudder out as his entire body tingled with an icy-fiery feeling that swamped his senses. This feeling…he turned to Matt, who was grinning at him.

"It's the ice, comrade," Matt said. "It does things to people."

And as Ivan accepted that feeling, let it fill him, he had to agree.

*x*

"Good for Matt…Good for them both," Al said.

Nat had had it. She clenched her fists and got up. Any other time, she would plummet the loud mouthed, condescending chatterbox next to her, but she didn't want to ruin it for her brother or Matt.

"Where are you going?" Eliza asked.

"Out. I need to cool off," she said, and Eliza understood.

"Cool off? After an ice hockey match?"

Okay, so this guy wasn't going to go down without a fight. She grabbed the sleeve of his bomber jacket, and turned to him. "You're coming with me. We're taking this outside," she said. Without waiting, she dragged him.

After staggering over the person sitting next to him, he moved behind Nat. The very act of holding him must've disgusted her, because she let go of his jacket as soon as he began following her. He saw her wiping her hand on the back of consecutive seats, then wiping it on her army-styled trousers. He just raised an eyebrow at that. Did she hate him so much that holding onto his _clothes_ disgusted her?

He pushed his glasses up his nose, a habit both the younger Bonnefoys had. Well, she had a _lot_ of surprises coming her way.

She led him outside, looked around, and took him to the narrow corridor built between the reception counter and the Oxensterina family's personal space, where they couldn't be seen from the people seated inside or from those coming from outside.

"Well, Miss Mysterious, do you"—

"Look, what is your problem?"

Al blinked at her. "_My_ problem? Excuse me if I'm not following this, Arlovskaya, but I'm not the one acting as if I have PMS."

Nat's eyes narrowed. "You just like showing off that you're better than your brother, don't you?"

"You're just assuming things, Arlovskaya. My brother knows where he stands"—

"But you don't, apparently."

"Oh, I know exactly where I stand," Al said. Before she could blink, his hand was under her chin, jerking her head upwards. "You don't seem to know where _you_ stand," he said, catching her fist and holding it back with apparent ease. "Think about it," Al said, letting go of her chin to grab her other fist. With a grunt, he jerked both her arms upwards and pinned them to the wall.

"Let go…of me, _mudak_," she hissed, struggling against his grasp.

He let go of her wrists, and stood back, pushing his glasses up his nose. She snarled at him as she cradled her wrists protectively. "It's simple, Nat. You're fond of Matt. Matt's"—

"It's none of your damn business!" she snapped at him.

His eyes narrowed. "It's very much my business—Matt's my brother"—

"Well, you don't see him poking his nose into your business, do you?"

Al chuckled. "Oh, my darling, darling Arlovskaya, he doesn't _know_ what my business is. But he's my younger brother, and I'm worried about him. Just think about how worried _your_ brother would be if he didn't know what exactly you were doing behind his back."

Nat just glared at him. "I refuse to speak to you. Know this, American—don't put your nose where it doesn't belong. You might be physically stronger than me, but I'm strong enough to rearrange your face."

Al laughed, and Nat felt her anger towards him rise. "Oh, really, Arlovskaya?" he asked, removing his glasses. "You'd do things to my amazing face, now, would you?" Before she could draw in breath to reply, he was right in front of her, his hand pushing her face to his, his electric blue eyes drilling into her. "Now, then. I wonder how that's possible when I'm standing this close. Doesn't give you much space, does it?"

She was trapped—behind her was the hard wall, and before her was his hard, lean body, pressing into hers. "Don't you _dare_, American," she hissed at him.

"Oh, I dare," he murmured, his hot breath falling over her lips. "I dare."

* * *

**A/N: Cliffy!**

**First off, my apologies for the late chapter—I'm agonizing over how to write these damn hockey scenes, since A) I'm Indian, and I've never seen ice hockey being played, B) My internet connection's hopeless since there're a bunch of medical institutions and they make the signal really weak, C) I can't access Youtube because of aforementioned reason, and D) I've had to rely on my imagination.**

**So, I apologize for the badly written ice-hockey scenes…if you guys can help me, I'd love it. Honestly, I'll build a shrine for you if you can help me.**

**Actually, I'm agonizing over this entire chapter—it's long, it's not up to standards and…lots of other problems. So if you have any advice—any at all—PM me or leave a review telling me where I can correct this. Thank you so much for your help!**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	9. Chapter 8: Serious moments and fun times

**A/N: Ice Hockey has got to be the best sport ever—it's full of speed, drama, body contact (ehehehe) and ICE (I'm such a pervert). It's so awesome…so I'm really sorry if anyone feels I made such a bad work of those scenes, in comparison to the actual game. **

**The chapters are getting longer…must do something about it. The last one was 200 words more than the one before that…and how come no one enjoyed that short story? T-T Thank you, Blue**

**Thank you Jani, DV Princess, I'veMadeItMyOTP for being my MFN rant-listeners…you guys rock. And Radium, for knowing me so well—"Half your brain's concentrating on your conversation with me, while the other half's thinking about that fanfic you're writing." O.O You know me so well it should be illegal.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia…if I did, we'd get to see Arthur Kirkland's delinquent band, which would consist of him, Captain Hook on the bass guitar and the Flying Mint Bunny on the drums. **

* * *

_This one's for Radium, Sarni, RP, R. Jacob (even though you laughed at me) and U. Allen…you guys might never read this, but I love you all for cheering me on, even though I thoroughly embarrassed myself by scoring self-goals._

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 8

Nat's hand flew to the notepad strapped at her hip at the tinkle of the restaurant bell. "Welcome to—well, well, if it isn't my long lost friends."

Matt grinned at her, while Diego scouted for the nearest table. "Hey, Nat. We came to grab a bite."

Nat snorted. "You'd be better off going to Miss Wang's place for a bite than here. This is for the cultured class. We don't entertain dumb jocks."

"Hmm…ask me a question, then."

Nat's face softened. "How are you? Not a text or a call after selections."

Matt smiled at her. "I'm well. You look well."

Nat shook her head. "Your substitute is more annoying than your father. Come, let's get you seated." She took him to where Diego was seated, and he promptly collapsed into a chair. "I'm so _tired_…" he said, stretching those two syllables to make them two different words.

"Nat, sheila, you're gonna play sillybuggers or take that order?"

Matt watched as Nat snapped the pen in her hand into half, and spun around on her co-worker. "You call me that once more"—

"Hey, Mattie lad! Long time!"

Matt looked around Nat, and saw his uncle William Kirkland advancing towards them. "Hey, Uncle!" Matt wheezed out.

"Ow-yar-goin, mate?"

"Tired. Mom said something"—

William made a face. "Yeah. Your mom. Called me in last week, she did, said you'll be playing with sticks. Decided to help my good nephew, and here I am. Friend of yours?"

Matt made introductions, and Nat decided to leave them alone. Any time away she got from that loud-mouthed Aussie was heaven for her. She decided to go and bug Francis, but remembered what she had to ask Matt. Turning around, she saw William still talking to Matt, and made a face. She didn't want that _ublyudok_ joining them.

She skated to the counter separating the kitchen from the restaurant, and heard the bell tinkle. She sighed, and turned, thinking, _I'll talk to that man later_.

Her blue eyes met his electric blue at the same time.

Nat saw the nonchalance on Alfred's face change to astonishment as he saw her. He quickly looked away, a faint blush on his cheeks. She spun on her heel and moved to the kitchen. "Oi,_borodatyy razvratnik_, your brother-in-law's socializing with the customers"—

"Isn't that what he's supposed to do, _mon ami_?"

—"and he's getting on my nerves. That's the sixth pen he made me break."

Francis sighed and looked up from his thin slicing of the beetroot. "_Mon fille_, you were given a choice—my other son or my brother-in-law. You chose William. Now, come and taste this chicken."

Nat took off her skates and walked to Francis, who'd cut a piece of the chicken and was holding out a spoon to taste. She took the spoon, blew, and ate it. "It's good," Nat said as the blend of spices ran over her tongue. "What did you do—not put butter?"

Francis laughed genuinely, not his nasal laugh that usually made Nat want to dunk his head in whatever was boiling on the fire. "Surprised?"

Nat nodded and tried to scoop in more broth with her spoon, but Francis's spatula knocked it down. "No, _mon fille_, you aren't getting seconds. You'll have to buy it like everyone else, or wait for leftovers."

Nat made a face at Francis and moved out, dropping her spoon in the sink as she went. She slipped into her skates, and moved to wait tables, but none of the tables needed waiting except one.

She gritted her teeth and skated over. "Your order?" she hissed out.

Alfred blinked at her. "Oh."

She didn't know why she was bothering with explanations, but the words were tumbling out between clenched teeth. "My brothers are unloading the groceries, and my…co-worker's…" she let out a ragged sigh. Al turned around and followed the direction of her gaze. With a yelp he hid behind the chair, and turned his eyes on Nat. "Do _not_ let him know I'm here," Al hissed.

Nat raised an eyebrow, a small smile curling on her lips. "Why? Too loud for you?"

"He hits me so hard on the back I end up coughing my stomach out."

She shrugged. "Okay." She turned to spin away, William's name already on her lips when Al caught her wrist. She turned around. "Nat, I'm serious."

She looked at his hand, and he quickly retracted it. "Sorry," he mumbled and stared at his glass of water. She sighed. She didn't know what she hated more—his bulldozing or his walking on eggshells. "Your dad's cooking up some chicken. Would you like that?"

He looked up at her, hope in those blue eyes. Her own turned hard, making her message clear. He nodded and smiled. "That'd be nice."

She nodded, and skated away, not knowing that he was thinking of the same thing she was. She sighed, and sneaked a peek back at him.

Three parallel grooves, slashed onto his cheek, hadn't yet faded. With a pat on her back, Nat went to the counter, grabbed a pen, and yelled, "One order for whatever you're cooking!" She scribbled it down on the pad, tore the page and set it up on the belt. She sped over to Matt's table—William had gone to annoy someone else.

"Matt, come 'ere," Nat said. Matt wheezed and huffed and made a big fuss of getting out of his chair, but he followed Nat into the staffroom, closing the door behind him. Nat turned and looked at him. "You know Elizabeta Héderváry?"

Matt smiled. "Mom's best friend."

Nat blinked. "Really? That old?"

"Hey…" Matt protested. "Mom isn't _that_ old…she got married early."

Nat waved it off. "The younger Vargas wants to celebrate the German's joining the team, so she's asked a friend of hers to let us use the arcade…since it's a Wednesday, it's going to be closed, so it'll just be us there."

"Who's coming?"

"The Vargas brothers, the German…he invited Miss Wang's younger siblings over and they invited Miss Wang over. She invited our entire family over…and I'm inviting you, and Diego, if he wants to come."

Matt smiled. "He's got a date."

"Pfft. That guy?"

Matt shrugged. "She's really cute…a puck bunny, though."

Nat blinked. "What's that?"

Matt blushed, and slid his glasses up his nose. "Nothing."

Nat tilted her head. There was something about Matt's blush that was really endearing…she reached out and tugged at his long hair, ignoring his protests. "You need to get this cut."

"Owowow…Nat, let_ go_."

"Wimp," she muttered, and let go of his hair, but he caught her hand between his, surprising her. She wanted to ask him what was going on, but his gazed was riveted on her hand, with an expression on his face she'd never seen before. His hands felt so warm, so _safe_…He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing the tips of each of her fingers.

"M-Matt…" she whispered, half-laughing. "What is it?"

"We have a match in another two weeks. Against the team in the next city. They're going to come here…it's going to be a big thing." He stopped playing with her fingers, and clasped them. "If we win, Nat…If we win, we go onto the next city, and the next…until we're representing our state." He looked up at her, and the expression in his wrenched her gut until she felt her entire insides twist harder and harder, and curl painfully into itself, until it was one tiny sphere with such pain that it radiated through her. She felt hollow, empty.

"I'll be going away, Nat—Nat!"

She continued to stare at him even as he reached up and rubbed his thumb over her cheekbone, smearing it with a wetness that made her realize she was crying.

_He's flying away. He's leaving me behind and flying away._

"Oh, maple, Nat," He said, and dragged her into his arms. She started shuddering—the tears flowed and flowed, like an untethered dam that refused to shut, drawing back the tension of the days passed, the uncertainty of the days passing. She moved her hands, still fisted, to his waist, and pushed him back. With shaking hands, she removed his glasses, and slipped it into his pockets. His hands cupped her face, eased them up.

She looked up, closed her eyes as he kissed her cheeks one after the other. "Don't cry, Nat," he whispered, and lowered his mouth to hers.

*x*

Francis frowned as he watched Ravis stumble into the kitchen, his cheeks aflame. "_Mon garcon_, what is the matter?" At Francis's exclamation, Toris and Eduard came closer to their youngest sibling.

"Matt…Nat…staffroom…" he stammered. Francis blinked, and blinked some more at the boys' reactions—Toris sighed and walked back to peeling potatoes, while Eduard stroked his non-existent beard thoughtfully. "So _that_'s whom Nat was with."

Francis blinked. It hit him all at once. He staggered back, then jumped at the vibrations in his pocket. Quickly he fished his phone out of his pocket, and pressed 'Accept' without even seeing the Caller ID. "H-Hello"—

"Hotel Radio Tulips, Room 216, 9 p.m. Be there."

Francis slowly smiled even as the call got disconnected, and he continued to smile ten minutes later, too, thoroughly creeping out the Russian boys and even Nat, who joined them later, lips and eyes red and swollen.

His wife knew how to make him happy, and keep him happy.

*x*

Matt's Vespa put-putted to a stop, and he looked at the mini-crowd outside the arcade.

"This is so awesome! We get the arcade to ourselves!" Gilbert, seated behind him, said excitedly, nearly blowing Matt's ears in the process. Gilbert was…unnaturally loud, which was a good thing when they were doing drills on the ice, but not so good when his constant chatter kept Matt from driving.

Gilbert got off, fixing his helmet onto the back of the Vespa. Matt mentally braced himself for the arguments to come—according to his mother, Elizabeta's and Gilbert's fights were legendary, a thing to behold and stay away from. And when Gilbert had heard Matt asking Tino's permission, he'd called up his best buddy Antonio Fernandez Carriedo and called in an old favour.

Matt parked his Vespa and slowly made his way to the crowd. It was noisy—everyone seemed to be speaking at the same time, and Mei seemed to be yelling and blushing at the same time.

"Oh, Matt's here!" Feliciano cried out, and began waving madly, hitting Ludwig in the process, who began yelling at the Italian.

Matt was tired to the bone—Gilbert's German drills were not only draining, but also had the ability to rob him of coherent thought. All he wanted to do was sit down and sleep in peace, but at the noisy crowd that had accumulated, he had only one thing in mind—He wanted to run in the other direction as fast as he could, or at least till his Vespa, since his house was a few kilometres away.

He caught sight of Nat's bandana and made his way to her. She was talking to Kaoru about something to do with her Harley. Since her hair was still wound and under her bandana, he tugged on her shirt. She turned and smiled. "You're here."

"I'm tired, Nat."

She smiled naughtily. "Too bad. We're planning to make you boys run around. But the backdoor's always open." She moved a little back, included Kaoru in their group. "You know, I think that's about all of us. Maybe we should go in now."

Kaoru nodded and whispered something to Miss Wang, who went to speak to Elizabeta. Matt turned to Nat. "Where's your elder brother?"

"He said he'll join her later…we're to start without him," Nat said, and then made a face. "But my younger brothers are right there, trying to flirt with Mei and Lili."

Matt frowned. "Lili?"

"Lili Zwingli. I like to call her Elizabeta's newly adopted child. She's your sponsor's younger sister."

Matt blinked. "Basch Zwingli has a sister?"

Nat gestured towards Lili with her head. "That's her. She worships her brother. Elizabeta had to ask Lili to bring out the tears so that her…brother would allow her to come with us." Nat undid her bandana and her bun, shaking her hair free of its confines, then tying the bandana atop her head. Matt's hand found the ends of her hair—it was something he'd developed ever since he and Nat had grown closer as children. Back then, it was out of shyness, but now, it had become a habit.

"Okay, kids, let's—what the _hell_ are you doing here?"

Matt sighed, and placed his hand on Nat's back, guiding her around the crowd which had formed around Elizabeta and Gilbert. "Let's get in there," he whispered.

She turned around and placed a hand on his arm. "No, I want to see."

Bloodthirsty woman. He sighed. "Suit yourself." And he alone went into the arcade, found a sofa and sunk right into it.

He heard some yelling, and a metallic '_thuuunkkkk!_' that signalled the end of the argument. Matt sighed. He was just going to sit back and watch everyone act like kids. It wasn't his scene, and besides, he refused to let go of the few minutes of peace and quiet he was going to get.

Elizabeta entered first, followed by the rest of the troop who quickly ran towards their favourite games. She walked behind the counter and into the board room, which had all the circuit boards and the trip switches.

She blinked, and frowned. So _many_ switches…She dug into her purse, searching for the paper Lovino had given her. It contained the switches and plugs she had to work with to get the arcade going. Plus, it contained the code that would allow them to use the gamestations for free…well, Eliza _had_ paid him but—where was that damned paper?

"You look like you could use some of my awesome help."

Her head flew up, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. "One beating isn't enough for you, _idióta_?"

Gilbert didn't bother straightening or moving towards her—he just stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the doorway. "Hitting me now isn't going to get your arcade working,_ frau_. I used to run this place with Antonio's father before I found ice-hockey."

"I can do it myself, _köszönöm szépen_."

He just raised an eyebrow. "How?" Before she could open her mouth, he quickly said, "If Antonio's sent you a note, you're better off trying the switches yourself. He doesn't even remember numbers—it's become habitual for him to turn on twenty three different switches. He actually has a dance for that that allows him to switch on whatever's necessary. Even otherwise, _dieser idiot_ has an illegible handwriting."

Eliza heard the kids complain outside. She sighed resignedly. "Do what you must."

Gilbert walked towards her. It was a tight squeeze in the corridor. "Don't lean back," Gilbert said as his fingers moved over the switches. "You'll probably switch on something unnecessary, and that's not awesome."

Eliza looked around. "Why _are_ there so many switches?"

Gilbert grinned, and turned around. "Fernandez Carriedo is an insanely awesome man," he said. Eliza didn't know why, but her cheeks were heating up. "Do you want to see which switches I turned on?" he asked.

_I can feel the one inside me_,_ and the bulb's all heated up_, Eliza's perverted inner voice murmured. Eliza gulped and nodded. Gilbert started pointing at the switches and telling her what each was for. With half her mind, she paid attention—the other half was solely focussed on the heat she could feel from him, the scent of his soap…strawberry?

_Gilbert uses strawberry soap?!_

_More yummy for you to eat whole, _kedvesem.

She blushed harder, the blood in her ears roaring. She could just barely make out what he was saying…and then, suddenly, he was right before her, as in, _right freaking there_.

"Oi, Eliza, turn around."

_So that I can have you from the—_

_Aargh! Shut up!_

_You know that's what he's going to say to you. _Az ágyban_._

_I'm neither planning to get into his bed, or_—

"Eliza?"

"Oh. Yeah, yeah." She turned, and closed her eyes as he moved to the side, his front pressing against her back for ten seconds—during which her lecherous inner voice screamed and screamed—and moved to the side. "Then you just turn on all the switches, and pull this lever and"—they both heard the jubilant yells of the kids outside, and they both grinned. "_That_ happens." He looked at her. "Are you going to play?"

She shook her head. "Wang's got an idea, so I'll probably play with them then. She wants to do a Pros match: Ice hockey pros vs. Air hockey pros."

Gilbert laughed—not his snort of a laugh that made her want to choke him, but an actual, genuine chuckle. "Really? Well, I shall not let you miss such an awesome match."

Eliza moved outside, and looked at the rest of the troop go crazy—Feliciano and Kiku were playing Foosball, Chun-Yan had gotten her hands on the machine-bull and was shrieking as it threw her again and again, Ludwig was trying to beat Nat on a motorbike game, Kaoru was playing 'Hit the Hamster', The Russian siblings were teaching Mei and Lili how to bowl, Yong Soo was creeping up on people and scaring the daylights out of them, and Matt was fast asleep.

Gilbert joined her, and laughed when Eliza quietly pointed towards Matt. "Sleeping through all that noise? How awesome is that?"

Eliza smiled at Gilbert. "What do you make the boys do, anyways?"

Gilbert shrugged. "Stuff my father taught me. Well, since you're not playing and I'm not playing, want to take a walk outside?"

Eliza chuckled. "Sounds awesome." With a smug smile, she walked out, leaving a jaw-dropped 'Prussian' behind her.

Gods, but it was as satisfying as hitting him with her mini-pan.

She turned around to see the product of her work, but he was still staring at her, mouth agape. With a saucy grin, she asked, "You coming or not?"

He shook his head, and caught up to her, muttering the entire while. She walked out before he could join her, and decided to walk down the block. He ran to her side, hands in pockets, and they began walking.

"You…why did you do this…thing?" he said, gesturing with his hand.

"Well, Feli wanted to celebrate Ludwig's"—

"No, I know that. West's been telling me all about his _freund_'s ways of celebration, and they're all very…" Gilbert made a face. "They don't make for awesome conversation. But this—bringing them to the arcade on an off day…"

She thought awhile. "I like…I don't know."

"I really think you should leave that unawesome boutique of yours and become a teacher"—

She sighed exasperatedly. _Gods, this again_. "Gilbert, it's not that easy"—

"You aren't even trying, Héderváry."

They both heard the unspoken question—_How would you know if you haven't even tried_? "I can't just leave my boutique"—

"You don't enjoy it"—

"You haven't been around!"

They both stopped and turned to each other. Gilbert's eyes flicked from side to side. "Lower your tone, Eliza, and continue walking."

Glaring at the ground, she walked alongside him. "You haven't been around, Gilbert," she whispered angrily. "Once you got into ice hockey, you didn't as much as see my face"—

"I don't have to see your face to know you and what you want, Eliza," he said a little exasperatedly. "We've been best friends since diapers, _um Gottes willen_. You love kids, not clothes. I don't even know why you opened than unawesome boutique—wait, it's Bonnefoy's_ frau_. If that woman hadn't"—

"She's given me a decent income and a life, Gilbert. She's my best friend, and I won't have you talk about her that way."

Gilbert sighed and kept quiet. Eliza began regretting her decision of going on a walk with him when he sighed and said. "I haven't been around. But if you ever decide to do it, I'm right here."

It was her turn to gape at him, but he wasn't really looking at her. He was pouting, but Eliza could make out the faint pink on his pale cheeks. She felt her cheeks grow hot, and she looked down. "Thanks," she mumbled.

They reached the end of the block. Eliza felt her phone vibrate, and found a message from Wang. She slipped her phone back into her pocket, and turned to Gilbert, but he was already looking at her. She nodded at his unspoken question, and they made their way back to the arcade.

"H-How's Edelstien?"

She chuckled mirthlessly. "From one landmine to the next, eh, Gilbert?" she said, and looked at him, her insides hurting and clenching as the thought was reinforced into her head.

_You haven't been here for me_.

She sighed. "I don't know. We don't really talk anymore." _After _that.

He knew what she was thinking. "He still thinks about you." _Like I do_.

"He hasn't really said anything." _Like you haven't_. She sighed. "How is he?"

"He's a big name now."_ He's gone where I could never go_.

"You're happy for him." _Even though he has what you've always wanted_.

He smiled sadly. "He's my best friend, Eliza." _I have to be. Even though he broke your heart_.

She looked at him, and smiled, a reflection of his own. "Remember our dreams? All that time we spent talking?"

"Yeah."

"Maybe…we weren't"—

"Don't say that."

He turned to her, and she looked at him. "I had my time, Eliza. It was short, but it was awesome. Roderich…he's having his time. But, Eliza…it's time you went out there and did what you want"—

"I"—

"I promise to help if you promise to try."

His crimson eyes were filled with such pain, such hope…she realized that, more than her, he wished to see someone's dream fulfilled. Although not directly, his dreams had been shattered because of her. This was probably the least she could do.

She sighed. "Fine. We'll go and ask around Saturday, alright?"

He grinned at her. "Awesome."

They watched as Ivan Braginsky joined them at the entrance from the opposite direction, trying to tame his windblown hair. "_Privet_," he greeted cheerfully. "What's going on?"

"We oldies didn't want to disturb you kids, so…Wang's arranging something, I think," Eliza said.

He chuckled. "Bossy _zhenshchina_. She'll be mad if we don't go in, _da_?"

Eliza smiled at him. He was such a nice person…she was finding it harder and harder to believe what she'd been told about him. "Let's go in, then."

They found everyone huddled around a table, with Wang standing on a…something. From the door, the three of them couldn't really see the chair she'd dragged in and was standing on, busy yelling at the crowd. Her eyes found his, and he felt a shock of icy fire running through him. She stopped yelling and called out, "Look who's here, aru!"

Ivan grinned and raised his hands in the air as the rest of them clapped pointlessly. "Thank you, thank you."

"Aren't you modest, aru" Chun-Yan said as he neared the Air hockey table.

"I pride myself on that quality, Miss Wang," he said, his hooded eyes stripping her naked.

Shen_, but 'Miss Wang' has got to be a euphemism for something_, _aru, _Chun-Yan thought as she did her own personal stripping session. "Not that you have much of it, aru" she said. Reluctantly, she broke eye contact and turned to Matt. "Matt! Oi, Matthew!"

"How about we all yell together?" Yong Soo suggested.

All of them began grinning wickedly.

"MATT!"

The poor lad, who'd been dreaming about Ice hockey and maple syrup, literally jumped out of the sofa and fell onto the floor, and everyone started howling with laughter. Chuckling, Ivan went up to a completely disoriented and a disturbed Matt, and hauled him up on his feet. "You alright, comrade?"

"Maple…This was Miss Wang's idea, right?" he said, rubbing his eyes.

"Devious, isn't she? But she didn't want you to miss what she's been planning for some time now," Ivan said, looping his arm around Matt's shoulders and leading him to the air hockey table.

"Well, well, if it isn't Rip Van Winkle," Ludwig said.

"He's a cute one, isn't he, Ludwig?" Feliciano said, with his silly smile on his face, which prompted Kiku to ask Ludwig, "Erm, are you two dating?"

Matt just shook his head and asked, "What's going on?"

"Well, since most of you here are on the team, aru" Miss Wang said, "we decided to see if you're as good in the arcade as you are in the rink. So, we, the audience, challenge you, the players, at the game of air hockey, aru. Okay, whoever's playing on this side, the jocks on that side, the rest of you drag up the sofas or whatever and sit down until we decide who's playing, aru."

"Are you playing, Miss Wang?" Ivan asked as he moved to the side.

"Oh, I'm playing, aru," she said, and the meaning was clear, unfortunately, to everyone present.

"If they don't make out right in front of us, that'll be a relief," Nat told Mei as they stood to the side. "Are you going to play?"

She shrugged. "You?"

Nat cracked her knuckles. "Hell yeah. I get to beat Matthew at something which ends with 'hockey'."

Mei laughed. "I get to beat Kiku. Who knows? Maybe I'll get a crack at his head."

_Woah_. Nat eyed Mei with newfound interest and respect. "Somebody go call the doctor," she said as they got in line.

Mei laughed. "Well, some of us feel like strangling our brothers," she said, glaring at Kiku. He must've sensed it, because he turned around and began glaring right back her. Nat shook her head, grabbed Mei's sleeve and dragged her to where Eliza was standing.

"Okay," Miss Wang said, looking at the strength. "We need one more here, aru" she said.

Eliza turned to Feliciano, who was busy sweet-talking Lili up. "Why don't you come over?"

"I'm not good at these things," Feliciano waved. "I'll just sit here and watch my boyfriend play."

Ludwig blushed, and Eliza face-palmed herself.

"Oi, Lili, why don't you play, aru? Then it'll be girls vs. boys"—

"Oh, no, no, Miss Wang. Boys play with their toy cars and their bicycles," Ivan said, walking over to the edge closest to her and leaning over. "_We_ are men."

_And you, aru, prove it every other day_, Miss Wang thought as she waved his comment away. "That there is my little brother, aru," she said, pointing. "And that's the boy whom I mentor, and the German's my little brother's friend, aru. And _you_—You are younger to me, aru. So, I only see one man here."

Ivan blinked, then smiled slyly. "Well, then. It'll be fun proving who's a man, _da_?"

Chun-Yan smiled even as she thought, _And there goes another night's sleep, aru_.

"I just want them to get it over with," Nat said, turning around.

"I think we should leave them in this arcade all alone, but I don't think they'll notice us anyways. It's not as if they're really caring right now," Mei muttered.

"Can we get this started?" Nat yelled, and turned to Lili. "Lili, you're playing."

The girl walked over to where they were standing.

"Okay, rules are simple—this thing's timed for six minutes, I think, so the person who gets the higher score wins, aru. I have a few other things in mind, aru, so if you win, you can use the extra goals as coupons and ask your opponent—or anyone on your opponent's team without a coupon—to do whatever you want, aru. For example," she said. "If I'm playing against Braginsky here and I win by, say, three goals, aru"—Ivan snorted—"I can use those three goals as coupons and make the boys—and our audience—do want I want, aru."

Everyone slowly gave a thoughtful smile while the audience protested. Eliza looked at Chun-Yan. "Do you have a Truth or Dare in mind?"

Chun-Yan smiled. "With my own twist."

Eliza grinned. "Perfect."

Chun-Yan turned to the guys. "You're alright with this, aru?"

"Hey!" Eduard protested. "We want coupons, too!"

"You aren't doing anything," Nat said drily.

"Maybe we can see what the average of all the extra goals is afterwards and give each of those guys those many coupons," Eliza told Chun-Yan.

Chun-Yan nodded. "Sounds like a plan, aru. You heard her?" she yelled out.

Eduard nodded, appeased, and sat back in the sofa they'd dragged up. The others got up to get a better look at the play, and he hurried behind them.

"Well, let's get this started," Eliza said. "Do we get to choose our opponents?"

"Pretty much, aru."

"Hey! That is not awesome!"

"You guys didn't organize this," Eliza said, and glared back.

"Besides, this is the only hockey related thing we can actually play with you guys, aru. You have to allow concessions," Chun-Yan pointed out.

Gilbert sighed heavily. "Whatever. But this is not awesome."

"Oh, you'll think otherwise soon enough, aru," Chun-Yan said. "I'll go first, aru." Eliza took the swipe-card from her and they exchanged places.

"Well, then, _jiejie_, whom do you choose?" Mei asked, but they all knew anyways.

"Oh, that's easy," Chun-Yan said as Eliza swiped the card in the slot, releasing the puck. She picked up the puck, and placed it before her. "Russian, I choose you."

* * *

**A/N: Gods, I've always wanted Chun-Yan to say that…what about you?**

**I know, I know, I'm dragging this…where's the AmeBel part of the AmeBelCan I promised? It'll be up soon, I swear. Like, in the next chapter, and you'll probably have only that for the rest of the story. I don't know—I'm just realizing things along with you, although I know a bit more than you do.**

**Next time: Numa Numa! X3 Truth and Dare isn't the ****_only_**** thing Chun-Yan has in mind, you know…**

**Since you guys pretty much know who's going against whom, how about telling me whom you want to see winning? I'd love to know your thoughts!**

**If you enjoyed this even a little bit, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	10. Chapter 9: Let's play Air Hockey!

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys…I've started working on a PruHun called 'Memories of a Kingdom long gone', and I've spent all my brain-space thinking about it. Plus, I'm on my last strings on this chapter—I want to make it really good, but I'm empty, so I thought I'd keep it off, but my brain disagrees.**

**I just now realized Shinatty-chan was a Hello Kitty-sort of character…I thought he was the panda… :( …I feel like an idiot.**

**My parents and bro are joining me on Thursday! I'm really excited—I miss them so much! So this chapter's for them.**

**Disclaimer: Do I really have to put more of these? I'm wondering if I should. Anyways, don't own Hetalia, but if I did, India's human name would be Raj Sharma…I like the name Raj.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 9

Ivan grinned and picked up the puck. "I'm lucky to be chosen, _da_?"

That just snapped it for Nat. "We'll make you go at it afterwards! Why don't you just play already?" she yelled at them.

"Talk about verbal foreplay," Mei muttered loud enough for Chun-Yan to hear. The clock was ticking on them, so she prudently decided to ignore her younger sister and whack the puck towards Ivan.

The puck rebounded twice. Ivan, feeling a bit lost, decided to mostly do what Chun-Yan did. He imitated the flick of her wrist, but the puck bounced once, and slid over straight, giving Chun-Yan ample time to react—she sent the puck darting from one wall to the other, straight towards Ivan. Ivan narrowed his eyes and moved his hand to intercept the puck—

"Score!" Elizabeta cheered, and Chun-Yan grinned smugly at the Russian, who didn't know what had just happened.

"Just so you know," Ivan said, bending to take the puck, "this is nothing like ice hockey, or any other hockey."

"It's got a puck," Chun-Yan replied.

Ivan opened his mouth to reply, but decided it was wasted on the woman, since she felt more superior—than usual—than him. Muttering in Russian, he took it safe and just pushed it towards Chun-Yan, but it stopped on the mid-line. Elizabeta pushed it towards Chun-Yan, who hit it so hard it rebounded from her wall to his twice, engaging his concentration. The puck, reduced in speed, came back to her, but she didn't let it touch her edge—she sent it flying again. This time it rebounded near the mid-line, rebounded twice in his half, and easily slipped into his goal.

"Aiya!" Chun-Yan yelled triumphantly. Nat and Mei inched closer, since the game had started and there wasn't any 'inappropriate' tension moving around. "Awesome, _jiejie_," Mei said.

"I know, right, aru?" Chun-Yan said gleefully. "Bring it on!"

"Braginsky-san," Kiku whispered into his ear, "Rebound it on the sides, and concentrate when it comes to your half. When you're rebounding it, it becomes easier to score."

"Oh," Ivan said, placing the puck on board. So that was the trick, _da_? He'd see. Chun-Yan was grinning belligerently. If he didn't remove that grin off her face in the next minute…

He'd have to see.

Her technique flashed in his head, and he flicked his hand the way she did, putting more strength than he had before. It bounded, bounded, bounded—and went in.

He blinked, just as surprised as Chun-Yan was shocked. "That was quick," he said. He suddenly grinned. "This is fun, _da_?" he said, and turned to Kiku. "Thank you, comrade."

Kiku bowed. "It is my duty to help my _nakama_."

Chun-Yan narrowed her eyes at him. He'd guessed, huh? Well, it was time she broke that beginner's luck of his. She picked up the puck. "Ready, aru?"

He smiled at her. "Always."

Nat groaned. _Back with the foreplay_.

Matt yawned. He wanted to sleep so badly…he turned to Ludwig. "I'm going to sleep, Beilschmidt."

"And miss this? _Mein Gott_, man, look at how fast that puck's moving! I can't even follow it!"

His point exactly, but he _didn't_ want to follow it. Still, he stood there, and watched the two of them abuse the poor puck, with the scoreboard pinging every thirty seconds.

Ivan got his last goal in at three seconds, and felt like sitting down somewhere. This had _actually_ made him break a sweat…Playing with Chun-Yan was a feat in itself. He huffed, and grinned as the blare declared their six minutes over. He looked at the scoreboard, and saw the points—ten for ten.

"Not bad for a beginner, Miss Wang?" Ivan asked, grinning at the scores.

"I demand a rematch, aru!" Chun-Yan said, hitting her striker on the board.

"Eei, others have to play to, _jiejie_," Mei said.

"Sorry, Chun-Yan," Eliza said. "But since you're at a draw, maybe you both could get the same numbers of coupons—five?"

Chun-Yan harrumphed loudly, and turned to Ivan. "This isn't over, aru."

Ivan grinned and came over. "It never is, Miss Wang. It shall never"—

"Next!" Nat yelled, determined to _not_ see this side of her brother.

"I'll go," Eliza said, and handed the swipe card to Nat. She picked up the striker and pointed at Gilbert. "You against me!"

Gilbert grinned and picked up the striker. "Just like good old days, Héderváry?"

She chuckled, and took out the puck which had been released. _Glad we still have the good memories of the old days_, she thought, and looked at him. He nodded. She struck, sent the puck towards the left side of Gilbert's goal slot. He waited for it to slow down, pushed it away from the goal towards the sideboards. It bounded, and he hit it at the correct second, sending it straight to Eliza's goal.

Eliza hit it to the side, but it slid a ways off. Ivan reached out and pushed it towards Gilbert. Gilbert rebounded it to the side, and Eliza struck back. And like this, to everyone's wonder, they spent the next minute—it was like a game they'd played so many times they knew each other's moves by heart.

"If no one's going to score"—

Eliza jerked and sent a goal in, and Mei's jaw unhinged. She was gaping for so long Nat began thinking, _Maybe she'll never close her mouth again._

The pace drastically changed—and the scoreboard began pinging really fast. Eliza's goals almost all went in the same way—they formed an obtuse 'Z' shape in his half of the court and slid easily into Gilbert's goal slot. And it looked as if Gilbert relied on pure speed—the puck seemed to fly into the goal with ease.

"Time out!" Nat declared, and both of them leaned back from the table, a little tired. Gilbert looked at the scores, and swore. Eliza grinned and pumped her fist. "Yeeeah," she squealed. "8-5!" And right there, she did a little victory jig, topped off by sticking out her tongue at Gilbert.

He grinned. "Someone's learned how to make awesome moves," he said. He didn't mind losing as much as usual if he could watch his dear friend act like a little girl again.

She smiled, and leaned over the table. "Someone's accepting air-hockey as an actual game," she singsonged, and turned to Ravis, who was keeping tab of scores and coupons. "Cash in my points, my good lad," she said, imitating Alice Kirkland's accent. "I just won."

Gilbert fought down the urge to laugh and moved to the side.

Mei jumped up to the table, and rested her hand on the knob of the striker. "Me!" she declared happily, and turned to Kiku, her eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "_You_."

Everyone except Nat and Chun-Yan looked shocked at shift of tone from cheery to murderous. Kiku stepped up, his eyes narrowed as he glared back at his sister. "Me."

"I challenge you."

"I accept."

"Bring it."

"Oh, I will."

Everyone blinked. What had suddenly come over Kiku and Mei?

"Classic example of sibling rivalry, aru" Chun-Yan commented as Nat swiped the card and the puck was released on Kiku's side. Kiku picked up the puck, his eyes glinting as he thought of the many ways he could possibly maim his sister using it. He looked over at Mei, his intent clear in his eyes.

She just glared back, her intent equally clear.

Kiku placed it on the table. With foresight Chun-Yan quickly pulled Lili away from behind Mei and drew her to the side. Ivan, frowning, did the same with Ludwig—Matt was sitting on the sofa, trying to fall asleep amidst the yells and cheers.

Kiku struck with such force that everyone wondered why the side didn't have a huge dent. Mei didn't even wait—she sent it flying it towards Kiku. Literally.

Kiku ducked as it whizzed above his head, and glared at his sister. "_Anata baka_!"

She just scoffed. Everyone took several steps back from the table. Kiku fetched the puck, and glared daggers at Mei. He sent it flying at her, but she did something nobody expected—she struck back in midair.

Ivan felt his jaw slacken, but he had a feeling he wasn't the only one there. And as they watched, Mei and Kiku took the 'air' part of the game seriously, and changed air hockey to aerial maim hockey game.

_She's taking the 'crack at head' part seriously_, was Nat's only thought.

"H-How is that even _possible_?" Ivan whispered, watching them strike the whizzing puck perfectly in midair.

"They've practiced on each other with my crockery, aru" Chun-Yan whispered back. "I swear to you, we eat out of Tupperware and plastic toy plates, aru."

In the following three minutes, they sent the puck on every possible part of the other's body—forehead, throat, chest, arm, ribs, stomach, eye, mouth, and Mei even went so far as to send it towards Kiku's crotch, but the angle was off, so it ended hitting the edge of the table and nearly uppercut Kiku in the chin.

_I swear, they're as violent as I am,_ Nat thought in wonder as Kiku hurled Japanese abuses while she responded with curses in every language she knew, educating the crowd there.

"You are going _down_," Kiku swore softly, and turned the puck into a tennis ball—he threw it in the air, and struck the broad end, with the score board in its path.

With quick thinking, Nat reached out and caught the puck, swearing at the force behind the puck. "Are you trying to make a hole in each other's heads?"

Ivan couldn't help it. He chuckled. "What do you think, _sestra_?"

Nat snorted. "Fine, make holes in each other's heads. But don't break the goddamned scoreboard—what the hell did it do to you?"

Both Mei and Kiku hung their heads in shame, the fight leaving them.

"I disqualify both of you from this table on the grounds of unprofessional behaviour and attempts on damaging public property. No coupons for either of you, either, since half of zero is zero."

With one last glare at each other, Mei and Kiku apologized, and stepped out. Nat bent down and studied the touchscreen monitor, which was below the swipe slot. She reset the timer, brought it to zero, and terminated the game. She rose and slid the puck into a random goal, locking it. She turned to Lili. "Do you want to go next? That shot's left a hole _in my hand_."

"_Sumimasen_," Kiku apologized at the same time Mei said, "_Duìbùqǐ_."

Lili nodded shyly, and stepped up. She turned to Nat. "Umm…Miss Natalia, if you don't m-mind…can I choose Matthew?"

Nat blinked. "You don't have—you can choose whomever you want."

"No…because I-I heard you talking t-to Miss Mei…You wanted t-to beat Matthew."

"Oh. That. No, it's okay." She looked over at Matt. "If he'll wake up long enough to play, though, that'll be great. Besides, I think Beilschmidt Junior and I can teach these folks a little about professional play. Right, Beilschmidt?"

He nodded at her, and she turned to Lili. "You can have Matt. Oi, Matt, it's your turn!" she called out. Matt jolted awake, shook his head and walked over, stretching. "What is it?"

"You're up against Lili," Nat said, and bent down to work on the touchscreen. She didn't know why she did it, but she looked up and saw Matt's gaze on her. He seemed to be asking her something. She frowned and tilted her head a little, trying to realize what he was saying. He smiled at her. Surprised, she smiled back, shook her head, and loaded a new game.

The puck released on Matt's side. He picked it up, and looked at Lili. "I'm really bad at this," he said apologetically.

She smiled shyly. "I've never played this before."

Matt pushed his glasses up, and placed the puck on the table, hitting it towards Lili. It rebounded once, and Lili struck back. It rebounded on the left edge and slid into Matt's half, but stopped just out of reach. Ludwig slid it towards Matt, who hit it back to Lili. Lili blew her hair out of her eyes, raised her striker, but her timing was off. Instead of landing before the puck, she landed on the puck, and the backwards motion sent the puck into her own goal slot.

"Selfie!" Chun-Yan called out.

Lili turned to Nat. "Does that count?"

Nat shrugged. "I don't know. Continue playing though."

Lili struck back, but the absolute indecisiveness of the play warned Nat about more self-goals to come.

And she wasn't wrong. Matt scored the next selfie—Lili finally managed to make it rebound on the long sideboards, and Matt moved his striker forward to defend, but the puck managed to slip in between. Matt, in his hurry to defend, moved his striker back, and pushed the puck in. The scoreboard pinged, and everyone groaned.

"Is this game going to be full of selfies?" Toris asked. Kaoru, next to him, shrugged. "Maybe."

"Is this better than the previous game, or worse?" Eduard asked as Lili scored another goal for Matt.

"Better," Nat called out. "No one's getting hurt."

"Selfie!" Feliciano called out.

"I think they're on the same team," Yong Soo commented with an uncharacteristic thoughtfulness.

"Oi, comrade, you aren't letting them concentrate," Ivan said, trying to shush them up.

"They aren't doing much, you know," Feliciano said. "They're just scoring goals for each other. Selfie!"

After that, only Feliciano bothered with declaring the self-goals—the others just stood, gave advice and groaned.

The agonizing six minutes were finally up, and everyone gave a sigh of relief, including the two who completely embarrassed themselves in those six minutes.

"The game of selfies," Kiku said.

"Out in stores near you," Yong Soo quipped, and all of them grinned.

"Each action figure sold separately," Eduard added, and they all turned to him. "This game needs _action figures_?" Toris asked him. Eduard just shrugged. "That's what the advertisers say."

"Nat, Ludwig, if either of you score selfies, we will bludgeon you, aru," Chun-Yan warned.

"Yeah, but what about the previous game? Do they get coupons?" Nat asked Chun-Yan.

"They scored six goals each. Maybe three coupons," Eliza said, and Ravis scribbled furiously.

"You ready, Beilschmidt?" Nat asked belligerently, and swiped the card by herself. The puck released on Ludwig's side. He picked it up, placed it on the counter, and struck.

She struck back, and they set a good pace, but neither of them could get a goal in. "This," Nat said between gritted teeth, "is how you play a game—no verbal foreplay"—she struck hard, "no murders and no self—Yosh!" she yelled as she got a goal in.

Ludwig applauded briefly. "Well played," he said as he replaced the puck on the table.

"And sportsmanship," she commented as she struck the puck, sending it into his half. Ludwig timed it, and struck it so that it made an 'M' across the table, sliding smoothly into the goal slot.

"How did you do that?" she asked, amazed, as she took out the puck.

"All in the wrist, Arlovskaya," he said.

She just frowned thoughtfully as she took another shot, sending the puck a little in the air. Ludwig moved his striker, and hit just as it landed, sending her own force back at her with an extra boost. It slowed down as it reached a corner—Nat hit it diagonally, but couldn't achieve the angle she wanted. It rebounded straight back, and she struck again, this time, changing angles. It hit a feet off his left corner, angled and slid in.

Ludwig nodded in approval as he took out the puck, and that was enough for Nat—she didn't like unnecessary talk. He struck, and they played the rest of the game in silence, the semblance of a smile appearing on their faces upon scoring a point. Ivan wanted to groan and break the silence amplified by the sounds of the puck hitting various things on the table. "I'm going to get drinks," he whispered into Chun-Yan's ears.

She nodded. "I got some, too, aru. Elizabeta got snacks." She turned to Eliza and whispered something into her ear. She nodded, and looked at Ivan. Ivan nodded, and after informing Gilbert, the three of them walked out.

"That was so _quiet_, aru," Chun-Yan commented as soon as they got out.

"I was bored," Ivan said. "Every game needs a bit of spice in it."

Eliza laughed. "I think there'll be enough spice to come, Ivan. What did you get?"

Ivan shrugged._ Uh oh_. "Beer, Apple fizzy and Vodka."

Chun-Yan narrowed her eyes. "Ivan…"

"What?" he asked as innocently as he could. "I'm serious. I'll show you—then you'll believe me, _da_?"

"I'm keeping my eyes on you, aru," she said, and turned to Eliza. "What did you get, aru?"

Ivan made his way to his bike as quickly as he could. _Nearly caught_, he thought as he hefted the cooler he'd brought along with him. He schooled his features and made his way back to where they were standing.

Eliza was carrying a carton, and Chun-Yan had a bag slung over her shoulders and bottles in her arms. "Fancy fancy," Eliza said, looking at the cooler Ivan had, while Chun-Yan whistled.

"Cold drinks are the best, _da_?"

"Where's the snifter, aru?" Chun-Yan asked slyly.

"I have it in my bag. Let's go set this down first," Ivan said, and looked at Chun-Yan. "What do you have?"

"The soda thing my brothers enjoy, sake, some apples, and today's batch of spring rolls, aru" she said.

Ivan turned to Eliza. "And _I_'m fancy."

Eliza laughed. "Okay, okay. I got lots of water and some snacks—you can't have enough water when drinks are going round. This is kinda heavy."

"Let's go in, aru," Chun-Yan said, and marched inside.

Ludwig and Nat were shaking hands at their draw as they came in. All of them soon joined, and took their stuff from them. "Go set it in the lounge there," Eliza said, and began giving orders. Ivan took the time to go out, get his bottles of Vodka, have a good laugh, and go inside, chuckling silently at the 'fun' that was going to take place.

All of them were already seated around a table, the drinks and snacks occupying the entire tabletop space. Ivan frowned. "We're playing truth and dare, _da_?" he asked as he handed a bottle of Vodka to Nat. "How are we going to play with snacks and drinks on table?"

Eliza heard him, and looked around. "I think we should move these sofas in closer together, and put the drinks and all that on the floor or the seats.

They all got up from the low couches, and pushed the two semicircular couches together, so that they encircled the table with gaps on both sides, since they couldn't touch.

"Should we leave space on both sides or one?" Eliza asked, and yelped when Gilbert pulled her down on the seat. "Relax," he whispered into her ear. "It's awesome."

Eliza resisted the urge to bring out her mini-pan—instead, she pushed him aside and sat on the other end.

"Hey, no girls-boys now. We all sit together like a big family," Ivan said, plopping down next to Eliza. He turned, and pulled Chun-Yan's sleeve. "Sit next to me," he said, making his violet eyes as innocent as he could. Chun-Yan laughed at the blatant attempt and jumped over the couch. Most people followed her example and jumped into their seats, all talking at once.

"This is never going to get"—

"Hey!"

Everyone looked at Nat, blinking. Pleased with the response to her yell, Nat sat down. "Elizabeta has something to say."

"I think you just gave everyone a heart attack," Gilbert, sitting next to her, said.

Nat smiled belligerently and put her booted feet on the table. "My pleasure." At Eliza's glance, she removed it. "Thank you, Natalia," Eliza said. "Okay, listen up. We'll start playing, but first, Ravis, tell us how many coupons we have."

"Big Brother and Miss Wang have five, Natalia and Ludwig four, Miss Héderváry, Matthew and Miss Zwingli three, Miss Mei and Honda none. So, average of all that is…three."

"Wait, what?" Yong Soo asked, not following.

"Yeah, he's right," Eduard replied. "First match was five, second was three, third was zero, fourth was also three and fifth was four. You get fifteen. Average that, and you get three. So us audience members have three coupons each."

Eliza thanked Ravis, while Mei asked, "Does anyone have an empty bottle or something?"

Ivan produced an empty Vodka bottle. "Aiya! You already finished…oh. Where did this bottle come from?" Chun-Yan said, eyeing the bottle he'd put on the table and the bottle in his hand.

Ivan resisted the urge to gulp. "I had it."

Eliza raised an eyebrow. "You carry empty Vodka bottles with you?"

"Well, _I_'m glad he does," Ludwig said, and reached out for the bottle, placing it horizontally. Chun-Yan handed around placards and a pen, told people to take as many placards as coupons they had, write their name, and pass the message on, along with placards and pen.

The others began clearing the table, putting the stuff either on the floor and passing the rest around. "Oi, there's beer and apple fizzy in the cooler," Ivan said. Feliciano, Gilbert and Ludwig dived for the cooler, and Feliciano emerged triumphant, extracting his apple fizzy first, but not for long, as Mei snatched it out of his hand and passed it around, chiding him for being selfish. Most of the stuff got passed around, including the sake. The springrolls, the cut apples with lemon juice sprinkled on top, and the nuts and chips Eliza had brought along found their way on top of the table.

"There's more where that came from, aru," Chun-Yan said as spring rolls began disappearing.

Ivan took one. "How much did you make?" he asked, and bit into it.

She grinned at his surprised look as the spices and clean taste of the vegetables burst in his mouth. "Enough for an army, so you can enjoy yourself, aru."

"Let's get started! _Da-ze_!" Yong Soo hollered, and all of them cheered.

"Spin the bottle!" Gilbert prompted, and took a swing from the can. Ivan watched him, and shrugged. _Wonder how much of that _Vodka_ you can take._

"This is strong," Gilbert said, frowning.

"That's good, _da_?" Ivan said. He felt Chun-Yan shift, and heard her whisper into his ear, "You're up to something, aru, and I plan to know what."

"I can't be innocent?" Ivan asked, turning around. She hadn't moved an inch, and her mouth was so temptingly close…

"Lili!" Feliciano cheered as the mouth of the bottle pointed at her, and they turned to watch as everyone cheered on the blushing girl.

"Okay, let's give her something easy," Eliza said as Kiku handed her a choko filled with sake. "Lili, truth or dare?"

"D-Dare."

"I have one," Nat said. "I dare you to use a coupon on Miss Wang and let her kiss someone of her choice."

Mei clapped. "No more of their 'games'!" she said.

"Umm, okay," Lili said, thanking Matt for the apple fizzy. "Miss Wang, I dare you to k-kiss anyone of your choice."

"And since that's up," Nat said, slapping a placard on the table, "I dare my brother to convince Chun-Yan to kiss her."

"Eei," Mei said, frowning at Nat. "I said no more games."

"One last game. Oi, give me a glass," Nat said, and took Ivan's glass, poured herself some Vodka, and shot it down her throat.

"Okay, aru," Chun-Yan said. "Convince me why I shouldn't go for an older man."

"Hmm." He yanked her down on his lap, trying to control his grin at her yelp. He leaned over to her ear. "I know that spot on the back of your neck that makes you want to eat me up."

"Not good enough, aru" she whispered back.

"How about you kiss me, _devka_, and see if you want to kiss an 'older man'?"

"Such faith, aru. And what if I do"—

"Try me."

She turned so that she was straddling him. "If you insi"—

Her yelp was drowned as he captured her lips in his, drawing her closer to him. She buried her hands in his hair, fingers tangling in his soft, pale mane. His hands were all over her, scorching her, pulling her closer, drawing her in. His tongue stroked hers, moved into her mouth, over her tongue; his lips devoured hers; his teeth nibbled on her tongue, and bit into her lip none too gently.

She moaned into his mouth, the sound moving through his whole body and shooting to his loins. He groaned—she felt the rumble of the sound right from his chest, moving into her.

Some small part of her mushy brain nagged her about their audience. She moved her hands to his face and tried to part. With a final kiss, she moved back, vaguely recognizing the smug look clear amidst the lust.

"So…" he murmured breathlessly. "Still want an elder man?"

"Who?" she asked without thinking.

He laughed and hugged her tight, looking over at Nat. "Done."

"Thank God," Nat said, and turned to Ludwig. "Spin it!"

Ivan planted a kiss in the crook of Chun-Yan's neck, and placed her beside him. "I'd love to hold you, but you're hea"—

"I am _not_ heavy, aru!" Chun-Yan said, hitting him on his arm.

Mei rolled her eyes at them, and found the mouth of the bottle pointing at her. "Me?" she asked. When everyone nodded, she sat back. "Dare."

"Say something nice about your brothers," Nat quickly said, unable to hide her grin as Mei glared at her. She huffed. "Kaoru's really good with numbers, and animals" she said. "Yong Soo sings…quite well, actually, and he's very hospitable. _Kiku_…" she said, and turned to Nat, eyes pleading. "Do I have to?"

Nat shrugged, and downed another glass. "Dare's a dare," she said, frowning at the heat behind the tempered down Vodka.

She sighed. "Give me some of that," she said, leaning over and snatching the glass from Nat. She poured herself a glass, added water, and stirred. She drunk it in four gulps, and surprisingly, didn't choke on it. "Under the influence of this Vodka, I say that Kiku…he's good at drawing. That's all."

Nat laughed and took another glass from Ivan. "Spin the bottle!" Feliciano yelled, his hand going to the apples.

"I'll do it," Matt said, and spun the bottle. It pointed to Kaoru.

"Truth."

"Have you ever gone till second base with a girl?" Toris asked, gulping down his drink. All the Russians were hell bent on finishing that one bottle before the hour was up, and then moving onto the next one.

Kaoru didn't blink. "What's second base?"

Toris spluttered, and Chun-Yan sat back. "I was going to ask him if he's done it with a guy, aru, but…" she sighed.

"Have you ever gone beyond kissing"—

Mei interrupted Toris and spoke something in Chinese. A deep blush appeared on Kaoru's cheeks, but his expression remained as stoic as never. He quickly nodded, and hid behind his beer.

Everyone started catcalling at once, and ambushed poor Kaoru. "When did this happen, aru?" Chun-Yan squeaked, but Feliciano got everyone off his backs by yelling, "_Ti amo_!"

"Wait, what?" Matt asked, unable to follow the sequence of events. But when they saw Ludwig's blushing face, it was pretty obvious as to who was at the receiving end of Feli's love.

Shaking her head, Eliza reached out and spun the bottle. It slowed down and stopped, pointing at Ludwig. Calming his racing heart, he put on his most stoic expression. "I'm up for a dare."

"I-I have one."

Everyone turned to Lili, who was a little red in the face, holding up her third can. Some genius had exchanged her vodka-laced apple fizzy with the 'beer', and she was busy chugging it down like it was water. Everyone gave her space, and she looked at Ludwig with a stern expression that didn't belong on her slightly tipsy face. "I dare you to propose to Feliciano right now!" she said, and took another swing, while Mei and her brothers cheered.

"What is with this crowd and sex?" Eliza asked, looking around.

Eduard wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, nearly pissed, and declared, "I'll put down all my coupons for a wedding!"

Silence as everyone stared at Eduard.

Gilbert broke the silence, and asked, "As his brother…does that make me best man?"

* * *

**A/N: Next time: The wedding! And who's got the ring?**

**Lol, this was a lot of fun writing…if anyone has any ideas for 'Truths' or 'Dares' in the arcade, don't be shy—let Mama Iris know what you want. I do have quite a bit of them, but new ones are always appreciated.**

**I probably won't delay writing the next chapter, since it's only a continuation…you'll get it sooner than usual. Angel-light-of-Japan, DV Princess and Adei, thanks for reviewing! 3**

**If you enjoyed this even a little bit, that'll make me happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	11. Chapter 10: Truth-n-dare with vodka

**A/N: Kinda started writing it the moment I put up the previous chapter…and did you notice it was 400 words shorter? Achievement! (fist pump!)**

**And yes, when Ivan's chuckling outside the arcade, he ****_is_**** going "Kolkolkol". Forgot to put that up.**

**Jani, my darling Cyjanidybel, where are you? I miss you! T-T**

**Not much to say, since I put up the last chapter six hours ago…let's get on with the show, then.**

**Tenth Chapter! As a special request, I want to ask whoever's reading this to leave a review! Thank you!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of the songs I'm going to name here. Songs are owned by PSY, O-Zone, Alex Swings, Oscar Sings!.**

* * *

_This one's for my brother…if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't know about PSY, Oppa Gangnam Style, Gentleman, Coldplay, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis, so much more, and most of all, Thrift Shop. You are the reason I listen to awesome songs that I've never thought existed. If this chapter's awesome, it's because of you._

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 10

Eduard slapped down all three of his coupons on the table and didn't even realize when Ivan pried the glass from his fingers. "Wedding! Wedding! Wedding!" he began chanting. Soon, the others joined in.

Feliciano began smiling winningly at Ludwig, and finally, the 'groom' sighed. "Fine."

Everyone cheered. Matt pulled Lili down, and took the beer from her hand. He sniffed it, and shot it down his throat. He made a face. _Strong beer._ He took a lemon soda pop and handed it to her.

"I want that!" she slurred.

"This is it," he said, and shook his head at the fuzziness that seemed to grow in his skull. "That's soda pop."

Convinced, she took the soda pop and began drinking that.

"What about the proposal? I thought it's supposed to come before the wedding," Kiku asked. He'd graduated from sake to vodka-infused beer, and his face was quite red.

"It's a dare," Yong Soo said, settling back. He turned to Chun-Yan. "You be the preacher-ess, _eonni_."

"Okay," she said, handing the bottle of sake to Ivan, and getting up on the table. "Ivan, you look so small from here, aru."

"I'll be able see your _trusiki_ from here, Miss Wang."

Chun-Yan, quite drunk, giggled. "Don't have any on, aru." She turned away from his astonished face, and yelled, "Who's giving Feliciano away, aru?"

"I'm the bride?" Feliciano asked.

"Whoever can lift the other is the groom, aru. If you can lift Ludwig, aru, you're the groom."

"I—Gilbert, you sod, help me up." Gilbert yanked her up, and the off balance Eliza fell into his chest. "Want me to lift you?" he whispered into her ear.

"It's their wedding, not ours," she said, and made her way to the end of the lounge, leaving a stunned Gilbert behind. "Feliciano, follow me!"

"Ve~!" he yelled, and jumped over the sofa, hurrying over to Eliza. Gilbert came and stood next to Ludwig, but Chun Yan shooed them over to the other side of the sofa, and herself jumped down and balanced herself precariously on the top of the sofa. She swung one way, then the other—Ivan moved over and supported her from the back, so that she wouldn't fall. She turned, winked at him, to which Ivan thought, _I like drunk Chun-Yan _very_ much_.

"Oi, you guys are audience—move over to that side, aru."

"Does anyone have champagne?" Mei asked as all of them got to their feet, most of them unsteadily.

Kiku picked up two cans of soda pop. "We shall have to make do with these."

Mei smiled. "We're so poor we didn't bring champagne."

Kiku shrugged. "It is bubbly."

Mei laughed, and picked up another can. "Drinks coming through!" she yelled, and moved amongst the crowd, which had divided into two.

"Who's the ring bearer?" Nat called out, to which Chun-Yan asked loudly, "We don't have rings, aru?"

"Oi, Toris, there should be some behind the counter," Eliza said. "Go get some."

Ivan turned to Chun-Yan. "Do you even know what you are doing, Chun-Yan?"

"I'll just do what they do in movies, aru."

Ivan rested his head against the small of her back and laughed, unaware of what it was doing to Chun-Yan's system.

Eliza yelled at Kiku and Mei to not dirty the place, and told Toris, who'd come back, to bear the rings.

"Cue music!" she yelled, and everyone started singing _Here comes the bride_, while Eliza and Feliciano made their way down the 'aisle'. Toris had also managed to find some bags of graffiti, and everyone started sprinkling it on the three of them as they walked.

Feliciano reached Ludwig, and they held hands, Feli beaming so much it actually seemed like his wedding. All of them quietened, and Chun-Yan cleared her throat.

"Dearly beloved," she began, "we are gathered here today to…"

"Witness the holy matrimony of Feliciano Vargas and Ludwig Beilschmidt," Ivan completed, and smiled when Chun-Yan whispered her thanks.

"Let's make this short and sweet, aru. Whoever doesn't want it to happen, speak now, aru, or forever hold your peace."

Silence.

"Then let us begin, aru," Chun-Yan said. "Since I'm not Christian, aru, I'll just skip to the last part. Any problems, aru? None? Okay. Do you, Feliciano Vargas, take Ludwig Beilschmidt, to be your…umm, husband, aru?" She turned to Ivan. "That's right, right?"

He nodded, and she turned back.

"Do you promise to wash his laundry, pick up his stinky underwear, do his dishes, be his tigress in bed and cook for him twenty-four-seven, aru?" Ivan laughed silently.

"And serve him cold beer?" Gilbert added.

"I can make him pasta!" Feliciano said. "And he loves my pizza."

"He's a very orderly person, Chun-Yan," Ivan whispered. "So it's probably the other way around."

"Oh. Okay, aru. So, do you or don't you, aru?"

"I do!"

"Good. Now, do you, Gilbert Beilschmidt, promise to eat Feliciano's food every day, pay the bills, change the diapers, walk the dog, remember anniversaries and birthdays, and keep your wife happy in bed, aru?"

"What about 'sickness and in health' and all of that?" Lili asked, and hiccupped loudly.

Chun-Yan blinked. "Aiya! I forgot, aru. Do you promise to"—

"Yes, yes, I do," Ludwig said. "We both do."

"With the power vested in me by…myself," Chun-Yan said, "I now pronounce you husband and…umm, I pronounce you pseudo-married, aru."

Everyone began clapping and cheering. Ivan whispered to her, "The rings, Chun-Yan."

"The rings!" she called out. Toris stepped forward, holding two rings in his white-and-blue hanky. Ludwig took one and observed it. "This arcade has merchandise"—

"Just put it on, aru," Chun-Yan commanded, and the rings with tiny tomatoes printed on it slipped onto fingers, to the cheer and joy of everyone.

"Kiss!" Mei yelled, and everyone began yelling, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Chun-Yan held her hand up, silencing everyone. She cleared her throat. "You may now kiss the bride, aru."

Feliciano gave Ludwig a look that had him running for cover, but Ludwig couldn't move fast enough to dodge Feliciano's body-lunge at him, fusing his mouth to the German's. All thoughts of escaping flew out of Ludwig's head as he kissed Feliciano back with equal ardour, hefting the lithe man into his arms, unaware of the catcalls and raunchy yelling taking place around them.

Mei and Kiku smiled conspiratorially, shook the soda pop cans, and aimed at the kissing couple, spraying strawberry pop all over them. The yells grew louder—the loudest was from Eliza, yelling at them to stop it at once. They stopped, and poured the rest right on top of the 'married' couple, and Eliza, who was standing there, had to admire their aiming skills—all of it had fallen on Ludwig and Feliciano, and not a drop on the sofa. Of course, Chun-Yan and Ivan had gotten down and moved the sofa away from the line of fire, thus saving Eliza from having to pay for it.

Feliciano and Ludwig parted, strawberry pop dripping from all over them. Feliciano leaned over and licked Ludwig's cheek. "You taste nice."

Ludwig chuckled. "_Ich liebe dich_."

Feliciano smiled. "_Ti amo_." Feliciano whispered something against Ludwig's mouth, eyes sparkling. Ludwig turned to Gilbert, and barked out, "Bathroom."

Without thinking, Gilbert pointed in the direction. Ludwig swung Feliciano, so that he was being carried horizontally, and marched off towards the bathroom.

"Are they going to consummate their wedding vows, or clean up?" Kiku asked, watching them go.

"Maybe both. That's quite fast, aru," Chun-Yan said.

"I'm not going to the men's washroom," Gilbert said. "As unawesome as it sounds, I shall use the ladies' washroom."

"Something you want to consummate, comrade?" Ivan asked.

"The relationship between the toilet and"—

"Ookay, we don't need to know," Eliza said. "Ivan, keep your wisecracks to yourself. Let's clean up, people." She threw cloths she'd managed to wet with water, and flung them on the sticky floor. Half of them cleaned that up, and the rest worked on the graffiti. Finally, they moved the sofa back in place, and everyone settled down.

"On with the show, then," Nat said, leaned forward, and spun the bottle, reaching out for a spring roll as it spun. The bottle slowed, and pointed to Ravis.

"Truth or Dare," Nat asked, grinning menacingly.

He looked around, sweating. He didn't want any questions about himself, but…"Dare," he said, emboldened by the Vodka.

"I have a dare for you, aru" Chun-Yan said. "I dare you to try and remain seated on that machine bull for two minutes while we countdown."

Yong Soo slapped down a coupon. "On max throttle."

Nat slapped down a coupon. "I counter that. The boy's piss drunk. Unless you want to clean up after him, use another coupon."

Ravis had tears in his eyes. "_Sestra_!" he cried out and flung himself at Nat, who howled in apprehension. "You do love me!"

"Get off me"—

"I'll give you my coupons if you hug me," he whispered. At once, Nat stopped struggling. "I'll hug you otherwise, too, idiot," she whispered angrily, and held her drunk brother tightly. "I don't need your damned coupons."

He kissed his sister's cheek and they parted. He dropped his coupons into Nat's lap, and before she could say anything, he ran off, followed by the others. Nat muttered about her idiotic youngest sibling, and followed.

Nat loved her youngest sibling, Ravis, to death because, all said and done, it was she who'd found him, walking barefeet in the bitter December winter, mummified in thin woollen clothes, made wet by snow, made defenceless by the harsh wind. Nat had noticed his frostbitten toes and fingers, and had rushed him to the hospital, yelling the place down. She stood next to him through the pain—the pain of amputation, the unthinkable pain when they remove the metal bowl from his grasp and ended up taking the skin from his palms and fingers.

She'd taken him home and hid him quite cleverly for two months, giving him a larger share of all her food, hiding him in her bed. Katyusha realized his existence early on, and gave him the maternal love his four year old heart had always been yearning for. When Ivan realized the freeloader in their house, though…

Still, Nat was glad that the boy was with him. She watched him climb onto the machine bull, and gave him a look that said, '_If it gets too hard, you're getting off it_.' He smiled at her, she glared back. He schooled his features and nodded.

"Let it rip, _da-ze_!" Yong Soo yelled, and they turned on the bull, counting the two minutes down to the second. Nat kept one eye on Yong Soo and another on her drunk brother, ready and poised if either of them needed her attention. Yong Soo turned the dial slowly, changing the modes every twenty seconds, giving Ravis enough time to adjust. Aware of Nat's eyes on him, he turned, his question in his eyes.

She shook her head curtly, and watched as the bull threw her brother up and down the last twenty seconds like a rag doll in the ocean, managing to smile as his yells were distorted by the raging bull. Everyone counted down excitedly, and even Nat managed to join in in the last ten seconds. Yong Soo turned the dial clockwise, stopping the bull, and Ravis stepped down to cheers and hollers. He took one step, another step, and staggered, but Nat was there before he could fall. She picked him up, and walked back to the lounge, whispering softly and patting his back, sending him to sleep.

"She really loves him, doesn't she, aru?" Chun-Yan asked Matt.

Matt nodded. "He's special to her," he replied. "Always has been."

Nat sat down on the couch, removed her bandana, and lay Ravis's head on her lap, covering his eyes with the bandana. Within no time, he was fast asleep.

They joined in quietly, quite aware of what Nat was capable of doing if they so much as made Ravis stir. They all sat down, and Gilbert spun the bottle this time. Unfortunately, it ended up pointing at Gilbert.

"Truth," he said quickly.

"How many woman have you gone out with?" Ivan asked.

"On a date or otherwise?" Gilbert asked, smirking.

Nat snorted softly, and he turned to glare at her. "The awesome Gilbert doesn't get rejected by anyone he chooses!"

Nat turned around. "You speak like that, no sane _zhenshchina _will go out with you. And lower your tone for another two minutes," she hissed at him.

"Answer the goddamn question, _idióta_," Eliza said, holding out her choko for another serving of sake.

"I stopped keeping count after number seven," Gilbert answered Ivan. Nat spluttered on her chuckle, and he just raised his nose in the air huffily.

"Spi-in!" Lili said and reached out, but Matt pulled her back, realizing she'd probably send everything on the table down in her attempt to spin. Nat watched the two of them curiously, realizing that she hadn't known about their sitting together until then.

She didn't know whether to be jealous or to laugh at the cute couple they made, but Ivan took her mind off it by spinning the bottle, and it pointed at Lili.

"Truth or Dare?" Ivan asked.

"Dare!" she declared.

"I have one," Ivan said. He reached out and placed his hand on Ravis's chest. Realizing that even an elephant wouldn't wake him up, he looked at Lili and said, "I dare you to dance with a man of your choice."

Chun-Yan slapped a placard down. "I dare you to dance with Yong Soo, aru."

"_Da-ze_!" the young man cried out, and jumped out of the sitting space, moving around towards Lili. Kaoru placed his placard on the table. "I dare you to dance with Yong Soo to Yong Soo's music."

Yong Soo laughed and helped Lili out of the couch. "You don't mind,_ yeoja_?" he asked.

"If you put Oppa Gangnam Style, I will sit on you," Mei threatened.

"I'll not give you food for a week, aru," Chun-Yan added, and muttered, "That boy's been eating, drinking, sleeping and dreaming Oppa Gangnam Style for a _month_ now, aru. We're sick and tired of listening to it."

Yong Soo grinned winningly at his sisters. "That's okay," he said, taking out his mobile phone and searching for the speakers cord. He found it, connected it to his phone, and selected 'PSY – Gentleman'.

The beats boomed from the speakers as Yong Soo joined Lili. He looked at his pleased sisters, and turned to Lili, who was trying to say something to him. "What?"

"I don't know what to do!" she said over the music.

"That's okay! Just do what I do!" he said loudly as the mixed tune began playing. She grinned at the tune, and Yong Soo grinned back. "Try this!" he said, and began swaying his hips from side to side. She laughed, the drinks making her uninhibited. She set her feet apart, and began moving her hips from side to side. From the side, someone whistled.

"Now do this!" he said, placing his arms in a thoughtful posture and adding a jaunty jerk at the end of every sway. She pursed his lips like he did, and did the same thing.

_Alagamun-lan, weh, wakun, heya, hanun, gon  
Alagamun-lan, weh, makun, heya, hanun, gon_

Yong Soo raised his arms to the side, making an 'L' with both, still swaying his hips. "Turn around," he told Lili, "and do this."

She stopped, turned, and continued swaying, hands in the air. Yong Soo closed in from behind, his body against hers, and placed his hands on her hips. "Now do what I do, alright?" he said.

_Alagamun-lan, we like, we we we like party, hey  
Ichiba, varriya, is hara moru, mashi sondori, yama, varriya_

He swayed from side to side, moving her hips in rhythm with his, whispering the beats into her ears. "Left-right-left-left, right-left-right-right," he said, moving their bodies in tandem. Lili lowered her arms and placed it on Yong Soo's, lacing her fingers inbetween his, surprising him. He grinned. "Left-right-left-right—run your hand through your hair—either one," he said, slipping his free thumb into the waistband of her pants as she gripped the front of her head, and tilted her head back instinctively.

"Now _that's _sexy!" Mei yelled, and hollered.

_Noga, onku, pega, haga, kunge, nande, varriya  
"Damn girl! You're so freakin sexy"_ Yong Soo whispered into her ear, grinning. "Separate when the chorus comes, 'kay, and do what we did in the beginning."

_I-I-I-I I'm a, mother father gentleman_

Yong Soo let go of her, and both of them began swaying, holding thoughtful poses. Lili took on the pout on her partner's face, but he himself couldn't keep it on for long—he broke into a grin. The chorus ended; he ambled to her. "Put your arms on my shoulders," he instructed. They swayed like that, but Lili said, "Teach me something harder."

He smiled. "Step like I do," he said. He took one step to the side, two in the other side, and one back. Once she got it, he said, "Now back and front," he said. "You're good!"

_Ichiba, varaniya, nori, moli, holy, daddy, chunga, ri  
Varriya, good feeling, feeling good, brutake_

"This time, do what I do," he said, letting go of her. He moved back, and began the swaying they did in the beginning, holding the thoughtful pose. She did the same thing.

_I-I-I-I I'm a, mother father gentleman_

He held his hands up, she did the same. He turned, still swaying his hips, and looked at Lili. "Do that!"

She shook her head.

"I'll do it with you!"

She still shook her head. He came up from behind her, placed his hands on her waist. "Let me guide you," he whispered. "Look down and keep your legs where I keep them." He turned, guiding her, and they did a complete turn.

The chorus stopped, and the beats began playing. "Do the first thing again," he said, separating and joining next to her. "And do this!" And he thrust his pelvis thrice.

Their audience looked, enraptured, wondering whether Lili would do the crotch thrust. He yelled something to her they couldn't catch, and she nodded. They swayed with their thoughtful poses, and when he began his pelvic thrusts, she grabbed hold of her crotch and jerked thrice.

"Woohoo!" everyone hollered and applauded, getting to their feet. Yong Soo began laughing and ran to Lili, picking her up and spinning her in the air, yelling, "_Da-ze_!" the entire time. He lowered her to the ground and grinned excitedly. "You were so good!" he said.

She grinned back. "Thank you!" she exclaimed and threw her arms around him.

He grinned, and hugged her back tightly. "I'd love to dance with you any time, _yeoja_." He let go of her, held her hand, and the two of them bowed just as the song stopped. Lili went back to the couches; Yong Soo retrieved his phone and joined them.

"Sexy lady on the floor!" Toris yelled as Lili joined them. People began congratulating her and Yong Soo, who went and sat down in between Toris and Kaoru, who both congratulated him quietly.

"Spin the bottle!" Mei called out. Ivan reached out and spun the bottle. It ended up pointing at Gilbert again.

"Dare," he called out.

Ivan slapped down a coupon on the table. "I dare all the men on this table to have a chugging contest."

Nat placed her coupon on the line. "Special entry."

Ivan saluted her. "Vodka or beer?"

The Asian boys voted for sake, Gilbert and Matt voted for beer and the Russian siblings voted for Vodka.

"We win by majority," Toris said triumphantly, but Ivan shook his head. "We do, but Eduard will pass out if he drinks more. Natalia, take your coupon back. I'm putting you in place of Eduard."

Nat happily retrieved her coupon, and passed the glasses around.

"Does that mean Vodka or…?" Gilbert gulped at the dirty look he got from the three remaining Russian siblings. The rest of them wisely kept quiet.

"Since most of you aren't used to drinking the good stuff, you can water it down to say, seventy percent and drink it. That's alright, _da_? We'll do fifty," he told his brother and sister.

They both nodded. Ivan turned to Yong Soo. "I suggest you don't participate, comrade. It'll be bad for you—you just danced a lot right now."

Yong Soo nodded, put a bottle of water on the table, and leaned back.

"Five glasses," he said, "in two minutes. Whoever gets the most or fastest wins."

Kiku opened his mouth to protest, but Nat cut him off. "We do ten in two, Honda. Usually."

Kiku shrunk back. Nat's gaze met Ivan's, and they both knew where the real competition lay.

"You know, you can't go around passing the bottle," Eliza said, taking a swing of her beer. "Why not do Soda pop? It's really hard to finish Soda pop in one go."

"But"—

"You said chugging, aru," Chun-Yan said. "And she's right. Yong Soo, stay out. It'll go down the wrong pipe, aru."

He made a face. Chun-Yan and the others handed lemon Soda pop around. Ivan, Toris and Nat all looked at each other with a 'Why-is-this-happening' look on their faces.

"On your mark, aru!" Chun-Yan called out, and they reluctantly grabbed hold of their pop.

"Get set!" All of them opened the label of their cans.

"Go!"

They all raised it to their mouth and tipped back, and everyone had to keep from spluttering—some genius had gone and shaken it well. Still, the Russian siblings were used to chugging, and they drank, their eyes widening pinwheel-sized and then shutting tight at the bubbles that seemed to go practically everywhere—throat, nose, brain, wherenot. Nat took extra care so that it didn't spill on Ravis. Kiku and Kaoru, accustomed to drinking it nearly every day as children didn't find it too hard—Matt was having it the hardest.

_A little more, a little more…_Nat drunk the last of it and slammed it on the counter, rubbing her mouth with the back of her hand. "Done!" she managed to squeak, but it was drowned out by Ivan's triumphant yell. She looked at him, and asked, "You too?"

Gilbert slammed it down next, followed by Kiku, Matt, Toris and Kaoru. Nat closed her mouth, but couldn't stop the loud belch that came out. Consecutively, everyone who'd drunk the lemon pop belched too, much to the disgust of the rest of them.

Nat and Ivan grinned at each other, and a part of Nat was surprised at how much _fun_ her brother could truly be. She had Wang Chun-Yan to thank for that, completely.

_And, to a large extent, Matt_, she said, turning to him. He was talking to Lili, and they were laughing about something. She knew Yong Soo from school; he never looked at a girl with anything other than brotherly love and respect. That was one quality she admired about him—he was quite good looking when he wanted to be—_especially during those crotch thrusts,_ Nat's mind said—but he never looked at any girl with bad intentions. Chun-Yan had made sure that none of her brothers treated a woman with anything less than utmost respect.

As she looked at Lili and Matt, she could easily pick out all their similarities—both were shy, both were used to being harassed and ignored, and she was quite sure they had similar interests, too. Lili looked at Nat and waved happily. Nat chuckled and saluted. She couldn't hate the girl, and neither could she hate Matt. That was another similarity they shared.

"Oi," Ivan whispered. "Jealous much?"

Nat turned, and blushed faintly. "Not really. They'll be really happy together."

Ivan snorted, and Nat giggled. Her brother rarely did that, and it was funny to date. "Happiness might be what everyone _wants_, _sestra_, but it's excitement that keeps things alive."

"But what happens when the excitement dies out?" she asked.

"Hello! This is not the time for serious discussions! Not awesome!" Gilbert yelled before Ivan could give his answer. He smiled at his sister. "Hold that thought." He turned and hurled sarcasm at Gilbert. She took another glass of Vodka, and tried to settle her emotions down.

"And the winner is—Nat!" Eliza yelled, and everyone cheered for her. She grinned, and settled back, emotions forgotten for a while.

"Spin!" Kiku yelled, and reached out to spin the bottle. It pointed at Chun-Yan, who said, "Dare, because Truth's boring, aru."

"I dare you to drink Vodka," Toris said, pushing over a full glass. Everyone began catcalling and cheering. Chun-Yan took it, and took a small sip, knowing that she couldn't guzzle it like Ivan was.

The fire burned her throat, and she quickly put it down and shook her head. Everyone groaned and protested, but she stood her ground. As soon as she could open her watering eyes, she did and said, "No!" as loudly as she could.

Ivan quickly took an apple and handed it to her. She gobbled it down, and asked him, "How do you do it, aru?"

Ivan shrugged. "I've been drinking it ever since I was a kid. I just"—

Matt slapped down his coupon. "Braginsky, make Vodka taste better for Miss Wang."

Ivan blinked at his comrade, and realized what Matt was saying. He took the glass, raised it to his lips and took the entire thing into his mouth. The protesting from the others stopped as he turned to Chun-Yan; she tilted her head, frowning.

Realization struck—her eyes became wide as saucers, and she opened her mouth to protest. "No"—

Ivan pressed his mouth to his, his hand gripping the side of her face. Before he could open his mouth, she closed hers. With a low growl Ivan rose, his knees on the couch, rising above her. He tilted her head further back, moving his other hand to her nape, the rough pad of his thumb making slow circles on the tender spot on her name.

Her lips trembled as heat shot through her. His fingers…oh _God_…He trailed his hand lower, pressing over each and every ridge of her spine, slowly, stroking the heat that was blooming in her centre. She arched into him, and sighed.

Ivan opened his mouth, letting the Vodka he'd been holding in gush into her mouth. She frowned, trying to hold it in her own mouth, but Ivan's hands were doing _things_ to her that…she shuddered, and began gulping it in as it came. His hand slowly moved up her spine, reaching for her head and his other arm curved around her waist, dragging him to her. He lowered himself as the last of the Vodka left his mouth, kissed her long and deep, and dragged back, taking in a deep breath that smelled of her and Vodka, a heady combination that did a number on his system.

He saw Vodka trickling down her chin, and rubbed it with his thumb. "Stubborn _devka_. Vodka tastes good, _da_?"

She laughed. "I'll tell you what tastes good—your mouth."

Ivan put his thumb to his mouth, and turned, grinning.

These Truth-n-Dare games were fun.

The bottle was already spinning, and this time, it pointed at Ivan. "Ooh, Dare!" he said.

"Dance!" Kiku yelled out, and took another shot of the vodka some idiot had poured into his choko.

"And I'll choose song!" Eliza said, slapping down her coupon. She got up and walked to the speakers, moving through her songs.

"Do I get to choose my partner?" Ivan asked.

Lili slapped her coupon down. "Nat will dance with you!"

Nat blinked at Lili's exuberance, and turned to Gilbert. "Hold onto Ravis until I get back," she said, and he nodded. She got up, and shifted Ravis's head to Gilbert's lap. Ivan took her hand and helped her out of the couch.

"Wants you out, _da_?"

"_Ostavit' yego v pokoye_. Leave it alone."

_Ma-ia-hii Ma-ia-huu Ma-ia-hoo Ma-ia-haha_

_Ma-ia-hii Ma-ia-huu Ma-ia-hoo Ma-ia-haha_

They both grinned at Eliza. "Numa Numa?" Nat asked. "Really?"

Eliza shrugged and sat down.

Ivan took Nat's hand. "The beats are similar to what we used to dance to before, _da_?"

Nat smiled nostalgically, and placed her hand on Ivan's shoulder. "Lead the way, Big Brother."

_Alo, Salut, sunt eu, un haiduc_

_Si te rog, iubirea mea, primeste fericirea_

Ivan waltzed along the length of the floor with his sister, and twirled her around, sending them both back to the market square where they both used to dance to the song of the Coffee brewer's cassette, earning a few coins and the applause of people.

Nat laughed, the way she always used to whenever he twirled her around. She spun in; he picked her up and turned in a full circle, and put her down. They both danced to the tunes of the past, locked up in their heads, memories that lay buried, yet alive, under all the terror and trauma.

_Vrei sa pleci dar numa, numa iei_

_Numa, numa iei, numa, numa, numa iei_

_Chipul tau si dragostea din tei_

_Mi-amintesc de ochii tai_

They watched as the two people they thought cold and closed off lost themselves in a world woven by their dance—Chun-Yan and Matt watched, enraptured. Chun-Yan knew the expression in his eyes—it was of unconditional love, of camaraderie, of belongingness, and a strange feeling began gnawing in her chest.

Matt watched as Nat laughed—truly laughed. He watched as the two of them hummed a tune and sung the lyrics to a song known only to them, laughing, smiling, finding joy in each other. There were a handful of times when she'd smiled at him the way she was smiling at her brother, and even few when she'd laughed out of pure, innocent joy.

He wanted that, he realized. He wanted to make her laugh like that, wanted to make her dance like that and sing with him a song which was only theirs.

Matt shook his head. _Maple_, _I'm getting sentimental._

_Ma-ia-hii Ma-ia-huu Ma-ia-hoo Ma-ia-haha_

_Ma-ia-hii Ma-ia-huu Ma-ia-hoo Ma-ia-haha_

Both of them stopped, and bowed. Ivan went to retrieve the phone, while Nat said, "This isn't really fast. The other song's quite fast."

Ivan shrugged. "Make do with what you have, _sestra_."

"Been quite long since you've said that," Nat said as they walked back.

"I have what I need now," he said, and Nat watched as his eyes shifted to Chun-Yan.

_O-ho_, she thought, grinning. _I see where this is going_.

She moved in, and Gilbert shifted. Ravis was back on her lap, and Ivan was back next to Chun-Yan, but four of their minds had begun wandering elsewhere—Nat's back to Russia, Chun-Yan's to her feelings, Ivan's to the women in his life, and Matt's to what he wanted.

Eliza spun the bottle, and it pointed to Matt.

"I dare _you_ to dance, comrade," Ivan said.

Matt got up, and pushed his glasses up. He leaped onto the table, and stretched out his hand to Chun-Yan. "_Hey, Miss Kiss. Let's dance._"

Chun-Yan grinned. "Really, aru? Miss Kiss Kiss Bang?"

He shrugged, and turned when Eliza slapped her coupon down. "I dare you to dance till the first chorus on this table."

Matt straightened, and took out his phone. He selected the song, and gave it to Yong Soo. "The Spanish version, aru," Chun-Yan said as Yong Soo went to connect it. "It's sexier."

Yong Soo connected it to the speakers, and Matt leaned down again, holding his hand out.

"_Hey Miss Kiss, vamos a bailar_."

Chun-Yan grabbed his hand, and he pulled her onto the table while the others cleared it.

_Muchaha Kiss Kiss Bang ¿quién eres tú?_

_Extraordinaria y va, qué cool_

The two of them moved in tight circles, bodies brushing provocatively. She twirled around him while his hands followed her movements, bending her, twisting her, guiding her. He dipped; she moved around him, settled in his lap and moved a finger from her lips to his. With a grin he got up and became her pole while she worked him, his mind focussing on her, unaware of the catcalls the two of them were getting.

_Y yo sé que eres mia y yo para ti_

_Asi es que te doy mi corazón aquí_

_Muchacha Kiss Kiss Bang vengamos a bailar_

_Muchacha Kiss Kiss Bang vengamos a cantar_

With two long strides, Matt jumped off the table and over the sofa, landing softly on the floor. He turned, and caught Chun-Yan, and swung her in the air before setting her down.

She shook her head quickly, and Matt grinned. "Dizzy?"

"Too much to drink, aru," Chun-Yan said. "Let's stick to land, aru. I don't want to hurl in circles."

Matt smiled as he spun her slowly. "I'm fuzzy, too. I don't think I remember"—

Chun-Yan let go of his hand and turned, moving her body along with his. She tilted her head back, and whispered, "We did this a million times with your parents, aru. You can do it in your sleep—you even did it once, remember, aru?"

Matt turned her around, dipped and rose, running his hand up one leg. She raised her leg and his hand moved under her thigh, supporting it in place. "I'm going to claim insomnia after the second chorus, Miss Wang."

He helped her spin, she dipped and rose, raising her derriere in the air provocatively. "I was going to suggest the same thing, aru."

_Mueve ese cuerpo lindo, no dejes de parar_

_Guapa Kiss ahora cantamos_

One arm curved along her back while the other held onto her outstretched arm, and he dipped her into the finishing move. They rose, bowed, and Matt went to retrieve his phone. Chun-Yan grinned at the applause, grabbed hold of Matt and they did a second bow.

The bottle was spun as soon as they settled down. The next dares were quite tame, and everyone was drunk, so no more dancing dares were given. Eduard was dared to kiss either person beside him, and he flung himself at Kiku, kissing the equally pissed lad with vigour the other reciprocated. Leaving them like that, they spun the bottle again, and it pointed at Eliza. She was dared to kiss any person—man or woman—of her choice, and before anyone could throw a coupon on the table, she grabbed hold of Toris and kissed him on the forehead, grinning at all the groans of protest from the others.

Ivan's game, however was up. Eliza, who was the least drunk, took a shot of Vodka and then sipped the beer, and gasped. "Ivan Braginsky!" she yelled at him. "This isn't beer—it's Vodka!"

Ivan just grinned. He was the few who wasn't drop dead pissed. Next to him, Chun-Yan was asleep—she couldn't manage to keep her eyes open any longer. "People had fun, _da_?"

Eliza groaned and looked at her watch. It was later than she expected. She turned to Gilbert—he was quite drunk himself. Everyone there except Nat, Ivan, and Toris were either asleep or passed out.

Feliciano and Ludwig entered the room, and both of them jumped in shock before the smell of Vodka hit them. "_Mein Gott_! What happened?"

"Vodka," Eliza said. "Okay, party's over. Ivan, how drunk are you?"

He wasn't, which was very surprising, considering how much liquor he'd consumed. "Okay. You're going to drop Chun-Yan and her siblings home _safely_. Ludwig, take your brother home. Feliciano, we're going to drop Toris, Eduard and Ravis home, and tell Lili's brother she's staying over with us. Nat, you take Matt home—Ludwig, go with Ivan first. Let Gilbert stay here. Feliciano, Toris, help me clean up. Nat, help everyone into the vehicles—you can leave with Matt after that."

Ravis woke up, and shook his head at the smell. He was quite used to it, so it didn't hit him like a ton of bricks. He rubbed his eyes, took the black bag Feliciano handed him, and began putting in all the soda cans.

Nat took a water bottle. "I suggest everyone who isn't drunk to remove the taste of Vodka from their mouth. It becomes extremely uncomfortable later on."

All of them went to the bathroom—Feliciano and Ludwig stayed behind—and gargled thoroughly. Chewing on the mint gum Nat had passed around, they looked at the mess they'd made, and sighed.

Time to clean up.

* * *

**A/N: It's damn long, but I refused to drag the scenes at the Arcade into the next chapter. There's enough going to happen anyways.**

**Lyrics:**

**Gentleman – PSY – ** www . directlyrics psy – gentleman – lyrics . html

**Dragonstea din tei – O-zone – **www . metrolyrics numa-numa-lyrics-ozone . html

**Miss Kiss Kiss Bang (Spanish) – Alex Swings, Oscar Sings! - **www . Diggiloo ?2009de11

**The videos are all on Youtube if you'd want to watch them.**

**Well, I'm not going to drag this on any further. If anyone didn't like how long it turned out to be…well, my apologies, but chapters 9, 10 and 11 were all going to be one chapter, so…yeah.**

**If you enjoyed this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	12. Chapter 11: Trouble's first knock

**A/N: That was lo-ong…and FF ate up all my '. Com's, for some reason. Writing this from the moment I went and posted the last chapter, so not a lot to say.**

**And I've heard 'Gentleman' so many times it should be illegal…still listening to it. 'Mother-father-Gentleman'—Yeah! Personally, I think it's better than Oppa Gangnam Style…that's my thought.**

**Sorry for taking so long…I had to attend a wedding, and I'm back from my native place…I miss Manipal. T-T**

**Disclaimer: I'm out of good disclaimers. I don't own Hetalia, and I never said I did, either. Period.**

* * *

_This one's for CaityLightning…I don't think she even knows what Hetalia is. Still, she read this and left a review within twelve hours of asking her. If that doesn't make me the luckiest person with the greatest best friends, I don't know what does._

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 11

A bucket of popcorn to his right, a bucket of KFC to his left, a tray stacked with McDonalds burgers and lined with French Fries, and an army of Styrofoam cups full of Coca-Cola and his favourite movie playing on the TV…

This was the life.

Al stuffed some popcorn into his mouth. His parents weren't there—his dad would've passed out because of the shock, and his mother would've disowned him for wallowing in junk food. To be honest, he was quite tired of shifting between his father's rich food and his mother's bland food during his childhood. And when the fastfood chain reached W City, Al was hooked.

Anyways, his parents weren't there—they were out on a rendezvous…Al made a face. Sure, if they hadn't 'rendezvous'-ed, he wouldn't have been born, but still…he really didn't want the image of his parents doing hanky-panky stuff in his head.

The bell rung, and he froze. He looked at his 24-hour clock. 2316 hours…it couldn't be his parents, because they usually came back sometime early in the morning. Al got up, put his glasses on, and got off bed, pausing the movie as he went out. He washed his hands on the way, wiped them absently on his shorts and walked to the door. He pressed the intercom. "Who is it?"

"Arlovskaya. Open the damn door."

The Russian accent had his hand inching towards his thigh, but his belt and his holster was hung on the side of his bed. He recognized that voice, and mentally scolded himself for his reflex action. He opened the door, and blinked.

Nat felt Matt slip a little, and heaved him up. "He's out. My keys are still in my Harley—use the key number three, open the lock and unchain his Vespa from mine. His keys are in the front space—park it wherever he parks it."

All Alfred could say was, "Why is my brother piggy-backing on your back?"

"Because he's unconscious and he's heavy, so if you don't move, I'll walk through you."

Al moved out of the way and let Nat in. Nat heaved Matt up a little and moved up the stairs and to his room. She kicked the door open, walked to the bed and happily unloaded him. It took her a while to straighten—Matt was _heavy_, and it had been a long while since Nat had had to lug heavy loads around. She straightened and started working out all the kinks in her. Shaking her arms loose, she worked on his shoes, removed both shoes and socks. She undid his jeans, dragged them off him, emptied it and threw it in the laundry basket. His hoodie, jersey and vest followed. Finally, leaving him in his boxers, she pulled the comforter on him, removed his glasses, put them on the side table, and walked out with the laundry basket.

She'd been in the Bonnefoy house so many times she knew in and out of it. She went to the washing machine, threw the clothes in and started the machine. She heard the door open, and she went down just as Al came in, closing the door.

"Where's mama Alice? Or my damned employer?" she asked.

Al made a face as he handed over her keys. "They're off to some hotel room doing…" he shuddered.

Nat smirked. "That's how you were made, idiot."

Al shuddered again. "What was that thing you used to do…the pointing thing?"

Nat frowned. She stuck her tongue out and pointed at her throat, making a disgusted face. Al reciprocated, and Nat couldn't help but laugh. "You look hilarious."

"You used to look as if you wanted to vomit," he said. "I was kinda aiming for that…But, whatever! I'm the hero—I'm always good! Bwa"—

Nat slapped her hand to his mouth, cutting him off. "He's asleep!" she hissed.

Al stepped back, hands to his stinging mouth. "Owww, Arlovskaya!"

"Don't act like a little kid," she said, and looked towards the door.

Remembering the hospitality training his parents had drilled into him as a child, he asked, "Would you like to eat something?"

Nat looked at him warily. "What do you have?"

"Well, dad made some apple pie, and I ordered pizza," he said, not mentioning the rations locked up in his bedroom.

"Hand it over."

"Okay, okay," he said. "Go sit down," he said, and got the pizza and pie from the kitchen. He gave her a slice of pie in a plate, and ate his without one, holding his hand below his mouth. "Whe' were y'"—

"Eat and then talk. We went drinking."

Al nearly choked on his pie. "W-What?"

Nat inhaled the apple pie—she had a secret, passionate relationship with Francis's apple pies that only the creator and consumer knew. "Drinking. That thing adults do once in a while with their friends. I'm sure you've heard, even with your minimal knowledge of everything around you."

Al snorted. "I know what drinking is. My question lies in how you convinced lil' broski to go with you."

Nat shrugged, put three slices of pizza on her plate, and leaned back, savouring her pizza. "Secret."

"What's with the towing equipment?"

She looked up. "Oh, that? I used to work during my summer hols when we were kids…You guys used to go out somewhere, and The Bonnefoy refused to allow us to work during the summer holidays. Then the guy who lives outside town—Scott—wanted someone to go and tow stuff to his garage, so that he had business. I said okay; he gave me the Harley and all the equipment. After I was done, he didn't give me any salary—he let me have the Harley and the equipment."

"Cool," Al said, reaching out for a slice of pizza.

"_Da_…Really handy when I need to take my brothers' vehicles from point A to point B. And today, Matt's Vespa. Speaking of whom, he's going to have _killer_ hangover in the morning."

Al chuckled. "Did he drink something other than Coke and Rum, and Maple Pop?"

Nat raised an eyebrow. "Really? Maple Pop?"

"Made dad brew it when he was a kid. Any Maple Pop you see in the stores is Dad's creation—Mom has the monopoly over the manufacturing."

Nat gulped the last of her pizza, and ran her finger on the plate, gathering all the cheese. She put it in her mouth, and looked at Al. "Your mother's extraordinary."

He shrugged. "I get that from her."

"And your affinity towards bad food, too?"

"Hey! You just ate three slices!"

Nat shrugged. "Keeping you company." She got up, walked to the kitchen; Al followed. "So, what did broski drink?"

"Let's see—Vodka, Vodka and more Vodka. Courtesy my house."

She put the plate in the sink, ran some water over it, washed it and put it up to dry. She turned around, and laughed at Al's shock. "I swear he drunk Vodka. And some Lemon Pop, and some Sake, but yeah. Mostly Vodka."

"Where did this happen?"

A chill of apprehension and warning went through her. She lowered her eyes and concentrated on wiping her hands on her army pants. She took out her bandana, tied her hair up, looking at him. "What is this—Twenty questions? And what were _you_ doing, anyways?"

"Watching movies. Want to join?"

"I'll pass. I'm going to go and sleep. I'm warning you—Matt's going to be a moose in the morning."

"Yeah, yeah. Can't believe he drunk Vodka, though."

She passed him, patting his shoulder on the way. "You better believe it." She walked to the door, and turned. "Thanks for the food. Appreciate it."

"Listen…about the other night…"

Her eyes hardened over, and Al gulped. She was quite scary when she wanted to be. "What about it?"

"I'm sorry"—

"You've said."

"No, you don't understand"—

"You crossed into my personal space. I did what any threatened creature would do—I struck back, and fled. That's it." She watched as he hung his head in shame. "Don't think you're the only male who thinks he can lord over me—there have been too many to count. And I've broken them all to size. But, Bonnefoy, you're the decent sort. Don't do something to change my mind."

"The apology stands."

Nat widened her eyes in fake surprise. "Oh, look. Al-baby's growing up," she said, patting the very cheek she gouged out.

Al studied her with his electric blue eyes, and she saw the sharp intelligence he kept hidden most of the time behind his 'I'm-subtle-as-a-nuclear-bomb' act. It slipped out at times, and Nat was usually there when that happened. She had vaguely recognized that particular brand of intelligence—sharp and cold as a tempered blade—but now she knew where she'd seen it before.

Alfred F. Jones Bonnefoy had the same eyes as Ivan Braginsky.

Nat stepped back, determination and loyalty drawing a wall around her heart. _If he so much as looks at Big Brother's direction…well, he won't know what hit him._

"Well, goodnight," Nat said. "And good luck."

Al gave her a two finger salute. "Good night. See you around."

Nat turned around and walked away, holding her hand up in farewell. She gathered all the chains and links she'd used to chain Matt's Vespa to her Harley, put them back in place, and put on her helmet, grimacing.

She was going to have a hell of a hangover herself.

* * *

Katyusha turned around, and smiled sweetly at Raj Sharma. "Thank you for your company, Raj. I enjoyed myself today."

The Indian grinned at her. "I hope my family wasn't too loud for your tastes. To tell you the truth, they were all falling over each other to keep you happy. I hope that didn't make you uncomfortable, Miss Katyusha," he said.

Katyusha laughed. "Oh, I enjoyed myself thoroughly. Thank you for letting me stay over. It was delightful. Would you like to come in, meet my family? I don't think they've gone for work, or practice. Do come in."

Raj smiled. "That would be lovely."

Katyusha smiled pleasantly at the young man Mei had introduced to her the previous afternoon before running off with her siblings to the arcade. Katyusha had declined the offer of going to the arcade, and decided to stay with Raj—they spent the entire afternoon talking at the café Chun-Yan and Mei had dragged her to. Raj got a call from his sister, demanding he return home, but he'd promised Mei he'd stay with Katyusha. Deciding to kill two birds with the same stone, Katyusha offered to go to his house with him, and was ambushed by Raj's enormous family.

One thing had led to another and she ended up agreeing to stay over at their house on Raj's great-grandmother's behest without even knowing she had. She'd stayed over, thoroughly enjoying herself with the scores of different people in the same house.

Katyusha led him in, took his coat, and hung up her brown shawl. "I wonder if anyone's home. Anyone home?"

She heard a loud, long groan from the kitchen. Worried, the two of them hurried into the kitchen, and Katyusha paused at the scene before her.

Her five siblings were sitting at the island booth, holding their heads in their hands. Ivan was in his pants, Nat was in her slip of a nightgown that covered her till her midthigh, Ravis was wearing his space-themed pyjamas, and Eduard and Toris were both in their boxers.

"Aren't you guys going"—

Ivan let out a loud groan and put his head on the counter, while Toris looked at his sister with bloodshot eyes. "Don't yell," he rasped out, and took the bottle of water in front of him.

"Hangovers," Raj said, looking at the five of them.

"I feel so…dead," Nat said. "Cut my head off, Big Brother. Do it now."

"I'll…cut yours if you…cut mine…"

"I'm so sorry, Raj," Katyusha said, turning to him. "It's just"—

"It's okay," Raj said, smiling. "I'd like to help, if you don't mind."

"I don't want to impose"—

"_Aap kya kehe rahin hain_? What are you saying, Miss Katyusha? I would love to help."

Katyusha gave him a grateful smile and walked up to the counter. Before she could say anything, Nat pulled her close and rested her head in her ample bosom, sighing delightfully. "So…Good…"

Ivan raised his head and looked at his younger sister blearily. "I'm the eldest. Get off."

Nat just sunk in lower, and jumped when Raj turned the mixer on. "Oh my God…it's an earthquake," she groaned, and put her head back on the counter, covering her ears with her arms.

Eduard tugged at Toris's boxers, and Toris said, "Turn it off, dammit."

"It's a good thing, this earthquake," Ivan said. "It'll fall on our heads…and smash our brains in…and it won't hurt so much, _da_?"

"Shut up," Nat groaned. "My ear hurts. Don't talk."

Katyusha looked at her army of zombies, and turned as Raj entered, holding the mixer container in his hand. "Miss Katyusha, if you would get them glasses"—

"Ah, _da_." She hurried over, got glasses and placed it in front of her siblings. Raj poured the contents of the mixer into each glass, and smiled brightly as all five of them looked at him blearily.

"Who're you?" Ravis asked.

"Your teeth are so…_white_," Toris managed.

"Brushing your teeth with _neem_ is compulsory in our house. I'm Raj Sharma, and that in front of you is a tonic."

"Mei's…Indian friend," Nat placed, her hand curving around the glass.

"How come you…don't have a…funny accent?" Ivan asked.

Raj looked at Ivan, eyebrow raised. "Indians don't have funny accent. Americans make the world think they do. And you, Russian, are no place to judge—your accent is of a true Russian, and not of a nasal-toned American."

Ivan laughed, groaned and laughed. "I…like you, comrade." He took the glass, looked at his siblings, and they all shot it down their throat at the same time.

"Don't spit it out," Raj said as all their faces filled with agony. "Swallow."

At Raj's command, all of them swallowed painfully, and looked at each other as if they'd just drunk castor oil. "The he"—Silence. And then—

"I can feel my tongue, brother!" Ravis said.

Nat rubbed her throat in wonder. "Wow…that's really warm."

"I…can…talk," Eduard managed, his first words the entire morning.

"My head…" Toris said in astonishment.

Raj smiled. "Ancient medicine. My entire family uses it for hangovers."

Katyusha turned to him. "Thank you so much!"

Raj shrugged. "Anything for a friend." He turned to the rest of them, and looked at the shining gratefulness in all their eyes.

Raj had just become their Deity.

With a lopsided grin, Raj realized he was being worshipped by the very people he'd been anxious to make a good impression on. He held out the container, thanking God for the day his mother had gotten married and they'd discovered the perfect hangover cure for the after party. "Seconds, anyone?"

The phone rang. Katyusha went and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Is that you, Katyusha? It's me, Francis."

"_Da, da_. What can I do for you?"

"Tell Nat and the boys they can take a day off. We have replacements."

"Oh, no, no, Mr Francis. They can come to work in the afternoon"—

"Katyusha, _mon ami_, my younger son was with them, and he's refusing to get out of bed. Alice gave him some alka-seltzer, made him eat something, take bath and then put him to bed. It's okay"—

"_Net_, Mr Francis. They're better now. Here, speak to Natalia." She handed Nat the phone, Francis's loud protesting clearly heard. Nat held it to her mouth first and said, "If you scream, I'll slit your throat." When it quietened down, she held it to her ear. "_Da_."

"Nat, you and the boys can take the day off"—

"You got replacements?"

Francis sighed. "_Oui_. Would you like to speak to him?" Before Nat could say anything, the phone was passed over.

"How bad does your head hurt?"

She blinked. "Your father must really hate his restaurant and want to burn in down, putting _you_ as my replacement."

Al frowned. "That's not nice."

"I'm not a nice person, especially not when I'm recovering from a hangover. How's Matt?"

"Baby."

"You drink as much as he did, we'll see."

"I'll take you up on that someday."

"I've drunk enough for a month…don't even bother asking now."

"Are you coming to work?"

"Yeah…We've made a new friend who's God in disguise. He makes killer tonics. Eduard can actually speak now. And I don't feel like a zombie anymore."

"Where you brothers there with you?"

"All I remember is lots of drinks, a hot chick giving me a lap dance, and a pole and your brother working it."

"Bull-shit."

"Her _zadnista_ was so firm…I realize why lap dances are so popular."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you got an erection. When are you coming to work?"

"I'm pretty sure you're getting one, imagining one girl on top of the other. Afternoon."

"I'm _so_ totally into lesbians going at each other. I'll stay until you come."

"You were accusing me of getting laid with your brother a few days ago, remember? Don't you dare touch my roller-skates."

"_You_ said you liked her ass. Puh-lease, girl, my roller skates are red and hot."

"You don't know your father's tongue but you know Russian? Your skates look like red piss."

"Russian's handy. And there is no such thing as red piss."

"You are missing the point. Fine, then—your skates look like the wine The Bonnefoy likes drinking so much."

"You aren't making a point. And I'm pointing my finger at my tongue."

Nat laughed. "You do that. See you around, Bonnefoy."

"See you around."

Nat smiled at the phone for a while, and shook her head. Her eyes moved over Ivan's, but he held her gaze. "The American?" he asked.

She shrugged and got up, but Ivan quietly said, "That one's trouble, Nat. Even for us, and _we_ are trouble incarnate. Keep your distance."

She snorted. "I don't even like him, and he knows it."

Ivan didn't say anything; he just watched her. Nat shook her head and went to hang up the phone, took another gulp of Raj's tonic, and went to take her bath.

Alfred F. Jones Bonnefoy was a mouthful, and he was dangerous.

But he was fun.

And Nat planned on having fun.

* * *

Tino looked at his inbox—it was full of messages.

_I'm sorry, coach, I can't come._

_I have a killer headache, I'll be skipping practice today. Sorry, coach._

_I'm sorry, Ludwig can't come—he's ma—_

_Due to ill health, I will not be able to attend practice today. _Sumimasen_._

_The awesome me has come down with an unawesome condition. Not coming._

"Berwald, what is this?" he said, holding out his phone to his husband. Berwald took the phone from him. "None of them are coming—Ivan, Ludwig, Matt, Honda—even Gilbert."

Berwald looked at the messages. "S'me p'rty. W' w'ren't inv'ted."

Tino snatched the phone back, and Berwald held his spoon in the air. "It's s'mple, w'fe. Th'y all h've h'ngovers."

Tino's eyes narrowed, and both Berwald and Peter gulped. "Peter, send them all messages."

"Yessir," Peter said, taking the phone from Berwald and holding it ready.

"Tell them that if they aren't on the ice by eleven, yesterday will be the last day they ever play ice hockey in this city."

Peter paled, but a glare from Tino had his fingers flying across the keys. Berwald looked at Tino. "Tino"—

"I'm saving it, Berwald. Don't push," he said, grabbed a slice of toast, and walked out, slamming the door behind him. Berwald sighed, and looked at his son. "Will you clean up, Peter?"

"Yes, daddy." He pressed 'Send' and handed Berwald the phone. Berwald took an omelette, put it on a slice of bread, folded it and held it in his mouth. He ruffled Peter's hair, and followed Tino, taking both of their equipment bags as he went out.

Tino was already on the ice, skating from one end of the ice to the other, doing furious drills that only increased his anger. Berwald knew it was pointless to talk him out of it—instead, Berwald sat on the side and ate his sandwich.

By the time Peter arrived, done with his chores and ready for practice, Tino had moved on to blasting the puck into the goal one after the other, then dragging them out and doing it again. Berwald got hold of Peter's hand as the younger lad went to join Tino. Peter understood and sat down next to Berwald, and the two of them waited for the team to arrive.

Everyone except those who'd sent the text messages arrived on time; Berwald made them exercise off the ice. A few inquisitive glances went Tino's way, but most of them realized Tino's bad mood and did the drills as they were told.

At fifteen minutes past ten, Ivan entered. "_Privet_. Sorry, coach"—

"Braginsky, sit on th' b'nch."

Ivan blinked and opened his mouth, but he saw Tino do furious mohawks on the ice, and nodded. He went and sat down, watching Tino do drills that the players never did. Ivan realized that Berwald or Gilbert always managed the players—Tino mostly watched and coached. His drills were harder and faster, and Ivan memorized and drank in all of Tino's drills.

Five minutes before eleven. There was a commotion at the door, and three young men burst in—Kiku, Ludwig and Matt. Berwald cleared his throat, and Ivan looked up. "T'ke them t' th' lockers, Braginksy."

Ivan nodded, and realized what was going on. He picked his bag up, and hurried out. He looked at the three of them—Kiku looked alright, considering how much he'd drunk; Ludwig looked tired, and Matt looked ragged on the edges. From what Ivan knew from his sisters, Ludwig had a sleepless night and Matt had sodium bicarbonate for his hangover. But why did Kiku look…_normal_?

Ivan walked up to them. "We're going to the locker rooms, comrades. Come on."

Without a word, the three of them followed him. Ivan turned to Kiku. "You look _vse v poryadke_, comrade."

"My _imōto_ Mei knows a friend who makes the best hangover cures"—

"Raj Sharma?"

Kiku blinked at him. "You know Raj-san?"

"My elder sister's friends with him. Your sister introduced him, I heard."

Kiku shrugged. "_Hai_…O_tagai ni suki_. Raj-san and Mei like each other…I wonder what he sees in that _onihime_."

Ivan laughed, and looked at the rest of them. "_My v bede_. We are screwed, comrades."

Matt groaned and put a hand to his head. "I'm already screwed, what with this headache. Maple."

"I'll introduce you to Raj Sharma later," Ivan said as they reached the lockers. He put his bag on the side, and leaned against the lockers. "Right now, we have consequences to face."

The three of them put their bags next to Ivan's, and waited.

They didn't have to wait for long. Tino stormed in, followed by Berwald. All of them straightened and stood in a line before Tino; Berwald stood behind him.

"Do you boys know how long I've been in this business?" Tino asked; his voice was strangely quiet.

They all shook their heads.

"I've been doing this before I could speak a sentence without stammering, and that was when I was five. When I came to W City, this place had a lake for a rink. So I made an investment and built an ice rink. It took me longer to mentally form a team, and to have someone accept us as a serious ice hockey team, even if all my players are amateurs. Let me tell you something, _pojat_, about the players standing in front of me. They are my best players. Unfortunately for this town, they also happen to be foolish, immature, irresponsible _juomarit_ who haven't realized that this city's first match happens to be in two weeks."

Tino looked at all of them—heads bowed, hands clasped in front of them. But he wasn't done yet. "Drinking, _seksiä_—you're young men. But if you don't give this game the respect it deserves, then you're fit for playing on a frozen lake, not on an ice rink built by men who live the game."

There was silence. Tino just looked at them. Kiku made the first move—he got on his knees and bowed. Matt followed. Ivan and Ludwig got down, and all of them said, "We are sorry," somehow managing to coordinate with each other.

"Get up."

The four of them got up, and looked at Tino. "Gear up. I don't care how much you drank—you're going to puke it all out today. You're on the ice with me today." Tino turned and walked away. Berwald blinked and looked at the boys. "I'll ask P'ter to g't the buckets. Good luck." And he left.

They all looked at the Swede's retreating figure. "What the hell have we gotten ourselves into?" Ludwig asked out loud.

And that was the last anyone said anything.

* * *

"It's Wang. Owner of _Zìzhì shípǐn."_

"Keep your eye on her. I'll inform the boss."

Without another word, she disconnected the call. A smile appeared on her painted lips as her manicured, hot-red nails tapped the screen. Her index finger went over the green button, and she held the phone to her ear. The ringing stopped as the phone connected.

"Hey, babe."

She grinned, and twisted a coil of bottle blond hair around a long finger. "Correct. And for that answer, I have something for you."

"Spill."

"Oh, no, no, not so fast. Everyone knows girls like it slow and smooth."

"You like it hard and rough. We both know that."

She let out a low, sultry chuckle. "Guess who else likes it"—

"Enough with the games."

She pouted; she knew he would realize. "Party pooper. Miss Wang Chun-Yan's another girl who likes it hard and rough. And she's with the hardest, roughest man on that side of town."

"So our filthy Russian has a girlfriend."

"I'd say slut."

"Don't drag her to your level, babe."

"Aren't you the sweetest man alive."

"So…the coal miner found himself the saviour of lost children. How poetic."

"What now?"

"Oh, nothing. We just let them dally around, fall in love…he's not my major concern right now."

She blinked her blue eyes. "Oh, really? Since when did you get over him?"

"Ever since I found a much more interesting Russian."

* * *

Francis rarely was distracted by the door chime—when he was cooking, it was just him and food. But a pair of green eyes came with a fiery gaze whose heat managed to lure his attention away from his food.

He handed the pan over to Toris, and walked out of the kitchen, rubbing his hands over his apron. He watched as Alice's eyes lit up as soon as they found his. It made feel like the king of the world.

"Hello, boss," Francis said, walking over to Alice.

"Hello, employer," she said, her British accent playing with her words.

"How may I help you?"

"I came to see how my restaurants were—what in the bloody hell is Alfred doing here?"

"Filling in for Natalia. You see"—

Alice didn't care for propriety—she grabbed Francis by the collar and dragged his face to an inch of hers. "Do you want to ruin my business, Francis? Do you"—

"I want to kiss you."

Alice blinked, and blushed a deep red. "Don't you _dare_ pull that card on me, you bloody sod. I love my son heaps, but as his mother I know how capable he is. Francis, do you hate this"—

"She'll be coming in a few minutes, _mon cher_—oops, _employeur_. Don't worry."

Alice let go of his collar and cleared her throat. "I want to see the state of your kitchen," she said.

Francis smiled. "Right this way, _employeur_."

Alice rolled her eyes and followed him into the kitchen. He turned and told her, "Look at it how much ever you like, _mon ami_. I have some business to take care of in the bathroom."

Alice rolled her eyes, and Francis smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, _cherie_, but it's urgent."

"Fine, fine, go. God's teeth…" Alice muttered as Francis fled to the bathroom to take care of his bladder. Alice turned to the kitchen, and smiled satisfactorily. Francis was a neat freak when it came to his kitchen—nothing could be out of place, and nothing could be on the work bench. It was so clean that Alice herself didn't have a problem eating off his work bench. And that was saying a lot.

She looked at Toris and Ravis working. Eduard, as she'd seen while coming in, was on the cashier. She went to Toris. "Hello, Toris. Where's Natalia?"

"She's dropping Raj—umm, Raj Sharma at his house. He's become good friends with sestra."

Alice's mind went to her rival and best friend in the business world. "How is Katyusha?"

"She's"—

A scream drowned out the rest of what Toris had to say. With a start they all turned to the entrance of the kitchen; Alice walked out, and saw a young woman come screaming out of the common bathrooms at the top of her lungs.

Alice wanted to do nothing more than dunk her head in the sauce Toris was brewing, but she seemed genuinely scared, so she walked up to her and grabbed her by her shoulders. She struggled, but Alice gave her a good shake. "Oi. Oi! Get a hold of yourself. What hap—What happened?" Alice asked.

"Alyssa, what happened?" some two boys came running over; Alice assumed them to be her friends.

She pointed a shaking finger at the bathroom. "Th-There's a creep in there! He-He tried to"—she launched herself into the arms of one of the boys and broke into sobs.

Alice frowned. "Creep? What are you talking about?"

She raised her head, and pointed at the bathroom. "The man there…he was—that's him."

Alice followed the direction of her finger, and grew paler than the girl herself.

At the door was a whistling Francis Bonnefoy, wiping his hands on his apron.

_This is not happening again. Oh, God, no. Not again. Please, not again._

* * *

**A/N: Next time…I really don't know. **

**Sorry, again, for taking so long to update…this chapter didn't take too long to write, but I was quite busy, so…I miss my native place. T-T**

**I finally put up the first five thousand words of '**Memories of a Kingdom Long Gone'**...I've written the second chapter on paper…time to type it up. Check it out, though—and DV, thanks for that review! ^^**

**Scott's Garage…did anyone notice the reference to 'One Tree Hill'? Honestly, I don't watch it, but all my best friends here go gaga over it, so I know bits and pieces.**

**And I'm not trying to offend anyone who's American with that comment in the middle...please, Indians don't have funny accents and if you think it's funny, you have all rights to be offended because you're a narrow minded jerk. Would've said worse, but don't want to leave you with a bad taste in your mouth.**

**Yeah, Next time: Skeletons of the Bonnefoy family get dug up. **

**If you liked this even a little bit, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	13. Chapter 12: Confessions

**A/N: Gods, it's raining so ****_heavily_**** here…Mango showers! My dog's such a scaredy cat…I just told him I'd throw him out into the balcony and the heavy rains, and he started crying…sad. I know, I'm evil. We've established that.**

**I have ANIMAX! Soooo happy…but all I get is Beelzebub and some crazy show called 'Sket Dance'…and for some reason, I always end up watching Sergeant Keroro…but that's the only TV channel I'm watching lately. And I watched this movie called 'Mystery, Alaska'…it's about an ice hockey town who go up against the New York Rangers…it's really nice and sweet.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia…if I did, there would be an entire segment on literature of nations. I love classics. ^^**

* * *

_For Amma. The woman who bore me and continues to bear me. Best friend, confidante, great listener, awesome mother. I can't tell you how amazing you are, so I'm doing what I do best: I'm writing it down._

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 12

Natalia removed the rings on her face methodically as she walked to the restaurant, slipping them into her jacket pocket. She rubbed her face—she'd stopped wearing the eyebrow rings—as she zipped up the pocket, and turned to the restaurant's glass walls.

_Commotion_, she thought at the crowd, and was about to roll her eyes when she saw who was at its centre. _Bonnefoy_.

She jogged to the door, and pushed it open. There was a crowd around the Bonnefoy, and they didn't resemble the ecstatic women who'd just eaten his crème Brule. She pushed and shoved her way through the crowd—it wasn't as easy as in the movies—hearing comments that absolutely shocked her.

_What the_ hell_ are they talking about_?

She got to the centre, and looked at mama Alice. She looked as if she was about to fall down. She pushed aside a huge man and attended to her first, getting her in a chair and pouring her a glass of water. Leaving it there, she turned to look at Francis. "What's going on here?"

"This man's a pervert!"

Any other time Nat would've yawned and asked, "What's new?" but the man's tone got her on the edge. "Says who?" she said, her eyes narrowing.

"He tried to feel her up!" the same guy yelled.

"Lower your voice," Nat snapped. "I can hear you fine. Where did this happen?"

"Who the hell are you?" the guy next to him asked.

"That's how your mama taught you to talk to girls, _ublyudok_?" Nat asked, and turned to the first guy. "Where did he feel her up?"

"In the bathrooms"—

"Who says?"

"Now, look here, lady"—

Nat walked up to the man. She was five feet five, and the man was well over six feet, but she was clearly the more dangerous one there. "That man runs this ship with strict rules. Staff members aren't allowed to use the common cubicles of either ladies or gents—they use the staff cubicle which is on the far end of the corridor. If he ever felt her up—did you see it?"

"See what?"

"Him doing whatever?"

The man began losing his bustle. "N-No. But she"—

"I'll say this once—if he ever felt her up, it's only possible outside the bathroom. And that didn't happen. Do you understand me?"

He nodded, and resisted the urge to gulp. She was _scary_.

"How do you know all of this?" the second guy asked.

"I'm the only female staff," Nat said, and turned to the girl. She walked over to her, sparing a glance at both the men to back off. With a gulp, they backed off. The girl's eyes darted from side to side.

"Look at me, _mudak_," Nat growled, and the girl's eyes snapped to hers. "What did he do?"

"I-I"—

"Answer the question. What did he do?"

"H-He felt m-me up a-and…slipped his h-hand i-into m-my"—

"Did you see him?"

"I-I…" she gulped at Natalia's near expressionless eyes and voice. "No."

Quick as lightning, Nat grabbed the girl's hand, ignoring her yelp, and placed it on her left inner thigh. "You know what's there, _devushka_?"

She shook her head.

"There's a scar as long as the hair from your roots to your chin, and it's as wide as three fingers. Know who did it?"

She shook her head quickly.

"A monster. The scum of humanity. And you see this man here? He's neither." Nat leaned over so that her mouth was next to the girl's ear; the terrified girl stayed frozen. "But I am, though. And I know you're here to cause trouble. If I so much as hear you five blocks down from wherever I am, _mudak_, I find you and I'll cut a scar bigger that your longest hair and as deep as a finger down your back. Now _get out_, _you bitch_, and don't come back. _Ever_."

Nat let go of her insanely vice-like grip over the girl's hand. The girl stumbled and ran out; the boys followed. Nat turned to the rest of the patrons. "If any of you doubt the fact that the girl's trouble and this man's innocent, the door's right there—I'll be more than happy to see you out."

A few of them looked at the fleeing trio with disgust, and took their seats. The rest, quite ashamed of what they'd said about Francis, also took their seats, albeit slowly. Nat turned away from them and looked at Alice and Francis. Alice was trembling; Francis had collapsed into a chair next to her. Nat walked to the kitchen and looked at Toris. "Toris, you and Ravis work on getting the food ready. Eduard, leave that to me and come help them." Nat walked out and saw Alfred emerging from the bathroom. "You. You're going to work the cashier."

"I heard some noise—what's going on?"

"Some girl trying to cause trouble. You're working the cashier. Do you know what"—

"Arlovskaya, as much as you think it, I'm not stupid. I know how to work the damn cashier." He pushed his glasses up. "I had something else"—

"Cancel it."

He nodded and looked over to where his parents were sitting; Nat followed his gaze. "I'll take care of that," she said. "Let's keep this place running."

"Yessir," he said, saluting.

"Cocky _mudak_," she replied, and flashed a smile full of fake sugariness when he raised an eyebrow. She walked to William first. "You'll take all the orders. Can you manage alone?"

"I can try, mate. Alice…" William said worriedly, looking at her. "They've been through this before. It nearly ruined both of them." He turned to Nat, and she could see genuine love in those eyes. "That's my sister, Nat. I don't want to see her like that ever again."

Nat nodded, although she didn't know why, and briskly moved towards the Bonnefoys. She kneeled before them, and something in her cringed when they looked at her with confused expressions.

"I don't know how this works, but if you guys want time out…I'll run the restaurant."

"Nat, no"—

"No, mama Alice. I can do this."

Alice shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's called running away, Nat. And Bonnefoys don't run away."

Francis nodded and pulled himself together. "Run the restaurant if you want, _mon fille,_ but I'm sticking to the kitchen." He got up, and looked at Alice. He opened his mouth—there was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to say…but where would he start? His hands curled to fists as his emotions tumbled and roared in him. With a curt nod, he turned and walked away, back ramrod straight.

What a proud husband she had, Alice thought as she watched Francis go. Her throat was clogged with words, all of them '_Don't go._' But he…they both needed time. That was it. They both needed time, and they'd talk about it later. She turned to Nat, who was still looking at her with those shrewd, blue eyes, and she felt blessed with the daughter she'd never given birth to. She got up; Nat got to her feet. She pulled the girl into a hug and let go before Nat could react. "Thank you, Natalia."

Nat nodded, and watched as Alice walked out, her back as straight as her husband's. Nat vaguely remembered Matt telling her something that had happened which neither of his parents ever spoke about, and thought about what William had said. There was only one thing that came to mind, and it was so ludicrous that she refused to think about it.

That girl might've been trouble, but Nat was damned if she let trouble mess up her peaceful existence.

* * *

Nat felt her phone ring in her pocket. She went and sat down in the nearest chair, and accepted the call. "What?"

"Too tired…pick up…please…"

Nat grinned. "You sound like beat up _der'mo_."

"Maple, Nat…give me a…break."

"Fine, fine. I'm coming. How will you go in the morning?"

"Ludwig…"

She got up, flipped the sign to 'Closed', and walked to the staffroom. "Fine. Go and sit down somewhere."

"Thanks, Nat."

"_Poka_." She cut the call, picked up her helmet and walked to the kitchen. Francis was sitting there, drinking brandy. He looked up as she came in. "I sent your brothers home. Want a drink?"

"I was out drinking with your son yesterday. I think I'll abstain for a while," she said, sitting on the counter top. For once, Francis said nothing.

"Thank you, Natalia."

"She was trouble. Fortunately, she was uninformed trouble."

Francis got out of his confusion long enough to blink. "You think someone did this purposely?"

Nat tied her hair up, and pulled out her bandana from one of the pockets on her army trousers. "I know trouble by the smell, papa Francis. She's new to the game—I'll keep my eyes open. And she picked the wrong time for trouble, too—if anyone has the right to scream sexual harassment, it's got to be the only female staff this restaurant's got. And I'll never have my chance." Francis looked at her, and she shrugged. "Tell mama Alice to keep her enemies close. If this isn't a hit at you, it's at her." Nat jumped down, and tied the bandana on her head.

"Nat, thank you."

She looked around uncomfortably, and Francis laughed. "Okay, okay, go now. I'll take care of whatever you haven't done."

Nat snorted, reached out and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. With a two finger salute, she walked away, helmet tucked in her arm. She walked to her Harley, and bared her teeth at the person drooling all over her ride. "You're disgusting," She told Alfred, hanging her helmet from the handle.

Alfred turned to her. "I didn't see it properly before, but now…" Nat rolled her eyes at the shiny expression that had appeared in his eyes, and began putting on the rings in her piercings. "It's amazing."

She snorted. "Damn right."

"Want to go for a spin with me?"

Nat chuckled and got onto her Harley. "I'm the one with the bike, _ublyudok._"

"Mine's right there."

Nat looked, and blinked. "I'm impressed."

He smiled smugly. "I'm the hero, girl. I get the best rides."

Nat rolled her eyes and pulled her helmet on. "I've got something to do, but I'll take you up on that offer."

"How 'bout tomorrow? I know this road that goes around W City and connects with North Scottsdale. No one uses it anymore"—

"What are you thinking, Jones?"

He shrugged. "Race."

Nat removed her helmet. He moved closer, and their faces were inches off each other. She could smell the spice off him, saw her belligerence reflected in his blue eyes. She tilted her head. "You're on, Jones."

"You know, one day I'll get you to call me Al."

She chuckled. "Dream on." She leaned back, and pulled her helmet on.

"Hey."

She turned to him.

"Thanks for what you did back then. Standing up for Dad like that."

Nat paused thoughtfully, and turned to Alfred. "Papa Francis has given me a lot. I can't return it, but that shouldn't stop me." She blinked at the fist he held up, and looked at him.

"Fist bump. Or don't you Russians know about that?"

Nat laughed scornfully. "I use my fist for better things, Jones." She held up a gloved fist and bumped it against Al's, mentally surprised at the size of his fist. She eased back her hand and started her Harley.

"Tomorrow, then."

"If I'm free."

"Just admit it, Natalia. You want to come."

She laughed at his overconfidence. "Don't act so familiar, _mudak_. See you." She roared away, but thought about what Alfred had said, and rolled her eyes.

_Idiot thinks he's so right_._ Smug _mudak.

* * *

"Wow. You look like death."

Nat took his kit bag, and looked at Matt. He looked up, but the protest in his eyes didn't make it to his mouth. "I'd pick you up, too, but you're heavy."

He laughed, and held onto his side in pain. "Maple."

Nat saw Tino approaching them. "I thought you'd grown out of that habit."

"I hurt everywhere, Nat. I hurt in places I didn't know existed."

"What about that hangover you had?"

"Seems like years ago."

"Hello, Natalia."

"_Privet_, Uncle Tino," Nat said, and looked at Matt. "You've really worked out this one."

Tino smiled. "Teaches him not to be late."

Matt tried for a laugh, but it sounded like a cough. Worse, it turned into a cough, and Nat knew it was time to leave. "Tough lesson. See you, Uncle Tino."

He nodded. "Come around more, alright?"

She smiled. Tino was the few people who actually meant that when he said it. "I'll do that. Come on, Matt."

The rest of the ride moved quickly—Nat talked randomly to keep him from falling asleep, then got him to his house and all the way to him room, just because she couldn't trust him to keep one foot after another. She dumped his kit bag next to the door in his room, and sat on the bed as he went to the bathroom. She got her sneakers off and put her feet on the bed, leaning back and picking up the photoframe that she loved to stare at—one with all of them in it.

It was around a few years after Nat and Matt had become best friends. Francis had called over all of them for their customary picnic, and on a bright Sunday morning, they'd all gone to the meadows outside W City. Alice was cooing over Ravis, Toris and Eduard—she'd fallen in love with Nat's three younger brothers from the moment she'd seen them, and Francis taught Katyusha how to barbeque. Nat and Matt had quietly played by the side, and when Matt accidentally pulled out the camera, Francis had gotten them all together and set the timer on.

_Ivan's not there_, Nat thought. _Neither is Alfred_.

She'd never found that strange. Ivan had his own circle, and as much as he was grateful to the Bonnefoys, he never mixed with them. And Al…Al was never there when they all gathered. He had one thing or another, and Nat used to be glad, because then, she had Matt all to herself.

But Alfred wasn't such a bad guy, and her brother was a lot of fun to be with. She chuckled. After yesterday, there was no doubting that her brother was the coolest elder brother on the block.

"I don't know whether I should feel refreshed or tired."

She set the photoframe down and turned to Matt, who'd changed into a vest and shorts. He jumped onto the bed, and Nat straightened, turning to face him. Like that, they told each other about their day—Matt about his insane practice session, and Nat about the drama at the restaurant.

"Al told me," Matt said quietly. At Nat's quizzical glance, he said, "I was talking to him before you came. He told me about that."

Nat leaned back, using her arms as support. Matt straightened off the headrest and sat up straight. "I'm sorry, Nat."

She knew what he was apologizing for—for not being there. "Someone's messing around, Matt. Either we find out who, or we leave it alone." She straightened, and Matt began playing with her fingers.

"We'll wait, Nat."

She shrugged and kept quiet. Matt looked up. "And I heard you and Al are on friendly terms now."

Nat snorted. "Well, we're not killing each other, if that's what you mean."

Matt grinned, and something inside her popped open. "That's exactly what I mean, Nat. You guys really don't know how similar you are"—

"Maybe I don't want another me. I don't think I could live with another me."

"Well, you could be nice to another you."

"I'm trying."

"I'm glad."

Nat turned around, and leaned into him. "Of course you are. You've been making us like each other since time immemorial."

Matt chuckled as he leaned back, sending a zing of awareness through her. "And it's finally paying off."

Nat toyed with his hand, and turned. "You really need a haircut. You look like a homeless person."

"Aww, Nat, I'm trying to grow it. Like dad"—

"I will shave you bald if you even think about it for another moment."

He sighed. "Fine. Tomorrow?"

Nat thought about Al. "I've got something coming up tomorrow. How about Saturday?"

He didn't ask her what—he never asked her, because she always told him. For some reason, it was making her feel guilty. "Saturday, then."

She looked at his hair, and had a sudden urge to run her hand through it. She reached out and moved her fingers over his scalp, bunching his blond hair under her hand.

"Ow." He waited for Nat to say something sarcastic, but his smile faded as she ran the thumb of the other hand on his chin. "I'm going with your brother tomorrow. We're going to have a bike race."

"Win, okay?"

She looked up, and saw his grinning face. He didn't…she chuckled. "Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"It's illegal to be so cute." Her hand cupped his cheek and she leaned up, planting her lips on his.

* * *

"Mama Alice."

Alice looked up, and saw Katyusha standing at one end of the pew. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, and smiled tiredly. "Hello, Katyusha." She looked at the girl's getup, and smiled at the brown shawl Kat had wrapped around her. Alice had given it to her around five months after she'd met Nat, and Kat had worn it every day since. "Want to sit down?"

Alice watched as Katyusha made her way down the pew and sat down next to her. "Are you Christian, Kat?"

She shook her head slowly. "Not really. What about you, mama Alice?"

Alice chuckled. "I can't decide if I'm Catholic or Protestant."

"What were your parents?"

"Dad was a Buddhist. Mom's an atheist."

Kat giggled. "That's a really nice combination."

Alice smiled. "Don't you think?" She looked from the glass painting at the far end of the church and turned to Kat. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted…I have never really been to this church before, Mama Alice."

Alice blinked. "Really?"

"_Da_. And I thought…since there would be nobody here…"

Alice chuckled. "Same reason."

"Nat told me…what happened."

"You don't really know what happened, do you?"

"Just…this and that."

"Hmm." Alice leaned back, and thought about her marriage day—how _she'_d come screaming to the altar, accusing Francis of raping her and leaving her pregnant. Alice had stood there in her wedding dress, utterly mortified and horrified, as _she_'d given a detailed description of what had happened to everyone present there—friends, family, acquaintances—and provided an ultimatum that made Alice regain her wits—and her anger—and walk up to her to slap her right across her face. Before anyone could react, Alice had punched her halfway across the church, gotten married and filed a case against the woman. Those first two years of marriage had been… "I'm glad Nat was there."

"Papa Francis could never do it, mama."

Alice nodded, and buried her head in her hands. What was she doing, leaving him alone like that? Fuck it, but she knew him—she knew he'd never do anything like that to any woman, and she knew he'd see this as a sign that she still didn't trust him. Alice raised her head, and looked at Kat. "Thank you, Kat."

Katyusha smiled. She understood. "That's alright. _Do svidaniya_, mama Alice."

Alice leaned down and pressed a kiss on the top of Kat's head. "Bye, Kat." Alice squeezed her shoulder, and walked out of the church.

Kat remembered what she'd wanted to ask mama Alice just then, and sighed. She pulled the shawl tighter around her, and got up.

Now she'd have to ask someone where the confession room was.

*x*

Heracles was sleepy, so he yawned. Next to him, the cat yawned. And he yawned again.

He looked away from the cat before it could yawn again, and groaned. Why did he have duty during the afternoons? He'd clearly told the guy who was the head that he needed his naps during the afternoon. Oh, why oh why had he left home?

He wasn't even Christian, for crying out loud.

He let out another jaw cracking yawn and looked at what he'd been assigned. Confessions. Oh, good. He'd go and say his lines and fall asleep. Perfect. He got up, rubbed his face and began walking to the room. Besides, it was small and cosy—he could easily fall asleep. And whatever the confessor said would stay with them.

_Zí̱to̱_.

Heracles rubbed down his red habit, and ignored the curious looks he got from the younger priests in the order. He didn't like their drab black and grey habits—he liked his crimson one better, and he wore it all the time. People thought he didn't know what they said about him—oh, he knew perfectly well. He just didn't act on it.

Heracles pushed the door open, and went and sat down on his side. There seemed to be a woman on the other side. Oh well. Did he say something, or—

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."

Well, didn't that just clear things up for him. But her tone…this was a different kind of confession, although he didn't know why. "We all sin during our time, daughter. It's but our nature to sin."

"Really? What was your latest sin?"

"I fell asleep during one of the priest meetings."

She laughed. He liked her laugh. "It must have been boring."

He yawned just thinking about it. "Very boring."

"But my sin…is not that forgivable."

Her tone changed. For some reason, he didn't like that. "What did you do, child?"

He heard her take a deep breath, and the words that came out of her mouth chilled him, shaking all sleep out of him.

"I killed eleven men with my bare hands, Father."

* * *

**A/N: And that's that.**

**If you guys want Alice and Francis's marriage day to be put up, don't hesitate to ask—I'm in two minds whether to write it or not.**

**I feel so brain dead, it's awful…I feel like a zombie nowadays, seriously.**

**Next time: …motorcycle races! (I didn't know what to say for thirty seconds)**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	14. Chapter 13: Kat gets a cat & motor races

**A/N: Okay, so list of things to add:**

**Alice's fucked up wedding day…yes, people, it was seriously fucked up. You have no idea how bad it was.**

**Why Katyusha murdered eleven people with her hands…although the how will be more descriptive.**

**I went to the most amazing violin concert…it was so beautiful…suffice to say, it wouldn't be an exaggeration if I said I saw God in their music at least twenty times. I mean it, people…which brings me to number three—**

3.** Roderich Edelstien's performance in W City.**

**But, right now, the opening's something I wrote a long time ago, around the time of the third chapter…enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

**Thank you, turtlehoffmann, for your reviews…I hope you continue to lend me your support! ^^**

* * *

_For Adei and DV Princess…we can have a combined funeral as soon as MFN's over…thank you for all your support. No matter how many chapters I tribute to you guys, it'll never make up for the support you've given me through your PMs and reviews…a girl's lucky to have amazing friends like you two._

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 13

"Hey."

Ivan looked up, and smiled tiredly at Nat. He took the bottle of orange juice she held out. "Hi."

"Uncle Tino worked you all out, did he?" she asked, sitting next to him. They'd done it once or twice before, but it felt natural for both of them to sit on the parapet of the roof, sipping on vodka. But Nat had her liver to consider…and she loved 100% orange juice.

Ivan sipped, and made a face, reminding her that he didn't like it one bit. "Nat…"

Nat shrugged. "Matt looked like _der'mo_. You…look like death."

"I'll be better after I drink this…this…"

Nat chuckled. "You ruined the sarcasm, _bol'shoy brat_."

"I don't like this, Nat," Ivan groaned, but held it because he had nothing else to hold. "Just like I don't like your 'Uncle' Tino becoming a demon."

"_Yerunda_. That _muzhchina_ is the sweetest man I know."

Ivan took another sip, and made a face. "That's how much you know."

Nat shook her head, and they watched the sun dip behind the tall buildings. Nat had this nagging urge…"Brother, what do you think about Matthew?"

"Matt? Why?"

Nat shrugged. "I...I'm just curious."

Ivan leaned forward, and looked far into the distance. "Well, he is unlike any other person I've ever met. In all my life, I have never met a man who has never felt the need to shout."

Nat chuckled. "Matt couldn't yell if he"—

"Really, Natalia?" Nat turned and blinked at him. He faced her. "The hockey match...I've played alongside him, Natalia. For a man with such power to be able to show his kind of restrain...that truly shows his strength, Natalia. He has never yelled at you, has he, during all the time he's been with you?"

"I"—

Ivan smiled. "You think it's because of his shyness. I think he uses that shyness, uses what people think about him to hide his strength. It is only when you fight a man, or fight alongside a man, that you truly begin to understand what lies underneath that veneer. And Matthew Williams has everybody fooled, even his own self."

"He's always been shy, _brat_."

"Maybe." Ivan shrugged. "Maybe. But you know what he reminds me of? An angel amongst struggling men, one God put amongst us out of his undying mercy and love towards us. We strive, we fight, we struggle to live every day of our lives. And when an angel appears amidst us, we do not understand his ways. We do not look beyond ourselves to look at him. But that angel's kindness never stops flowing. He helps everyone he sees. And slowly, Natalia, slowly, he loses that one thing that makes him an angel, or a mediator of man—the necessity to judge others. And that, Natalia, is when He becomes God."

Nat blinked. "What are you…?"

Ivan smiled, and placed his clasped hands on his drawn knees. "Life would've been different for us, Natalia, if we had met someone like him. If _I_ had met someone like him when I was as old as you are. It would've made it easier to live in Russia. Maybe we would've never come here. We would've stayed back."

Nat knew the tumult of emotions that her brother felt towards Russia. "Really?"

He smiled, and turned to her. "You're...We're lucky, Natalia, that God decided to bless us with a part of himself after all of our trials and tribulations. For your own sake, do not let him go. And for our sake, draw him closer to you. I believe, Natalia…I believe that Mat has the power to remove all our pain." Ivan's eyes held the belief he had in his own words. "Do not let him go."

Shaken, Nat turned back to the sunset, and stayed next to her brother, juice forgotten as the sun went down.

* * *

Heracles was never going to sleep in his life, ever again.

He hadn't slept the entire day, or the night, even, and he had uncharacteristic dark bags under his eyes. And he'd gotten up to see that he had run out of food supplies.

Lovely.

He moved to the Pet food counter…he didn't have a pet. He had many cats which refused to budge from his house and coughed out furballs regularly and lived there longer than he did. The only thing he did do there was sleep…and bathe and eat. Sometimes. When he wasn't sleeping.

He pulled out a big bag of Kitty Chow and dumped it in the trolley.

_"I hate the cross, Father."_

_"…"_

_"They chained me up on that cross for eternity. My _brat_—brother—told me it had been for _nedelyu_…seven days…There was a nail that was digging into my back. I try not to let _vody_ on my back when I'm taking bath…it reminds me of blood trickling down my back. They formed a routine, Father."_

_"A routine?"_

_"_Da_. My afternoons were free, so I'd try and sleep at that time. They'd all come during the evening, and they'd go back sometime late in the morning. There was no clock in that room, but it was very bright. I think…that is why I hate the light, Father. Because it was in the light that they raped me._"

He ran a hand over his face. He couldn't stop her words from coming back to him. They came in snippets, a few words at a time. Her voice wouldn't stop playing in his head. Her soft, full voice, made sweet and a little slow by her accent couldn't be blocked out by loud honking or bad music. Or even good music, for that matter. Heracles moved over to the frozen food section, and started loading his trolley with whatever looked good.

_"You avenged the wrong done to you, daughter. It is not a sin to do so."_

_"You don't understand, Father. That is not my sin. If it was, it was a sin I would do again and again. I would join them in hell to kill them all over again. No, my sin is much greater."_

_"You killed eleven…embodiments of scum who did this to you, daughter. That is not a sin."_

_"But I let my _brat_ take the blame. That is a sin, _da_?"_

"Hello, kitty."

Soft, full voice…he spun around, and found himself face to face with a fair, smiling face.

"_Ser_, there is a cat on your head," she told him, opening her eyes. He blinked. Her eyes were a pale blue…he'd thought of grey eyes, for some reason. He didn't know why—after that, he'd expected soft, grey eyes. Her hair was a pale, shimmering, silver-blond. She held it back with a hairband, although a bit of it still fell over those blue eyes.

She blinked at him. "Sir…?"

He slowly blinked at her. "Yes?"

"There's a cat on your head."

"Oh." Heracles reached out, and picked it up. Where had she—it was a female cat—come from? He turned to her. "Do you want her?"

She blinked. "Isn't she your cat?"

"I don't know. I have a lot of cats."

"What's her name?"

He frowned at the cat. She purred to him. He knew she was telling him her name. But what was she saying?

"Kitty. That's her name."

The pale blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "You don't know, do you?"

He shook his head slowly. "I know she's trying to tell me her name."

"You understand what she says?"

"No."

She blinked. "You are a funny man."

He smiled at her. "And you have the most beautiful eyes."

They both continued to smile, unable to comprehend what he'd said. Suddenly, a blush appeared on her face, and one on his. "U-Umm…"

"I just said that, didn't I?"

She nodded quickly.

He sighed. Thinking aloud was a bad practice he had.

"Is that so?"

He looked at her. "I said that, too?"

She smiled, and nodded.

He looked at the cat, and at her. Without a second thought, he placed her on the woman's shoulder. "There. She's yours, now."

"R-Really?"

He smiled at her. "Yeah. Name her whatever you want."

She turned her head and looked at the cat. "I think I'll name her…Sonya. It means sleepyhead."

Heracles blinked. "Really?"

She smiled sweetly. "_Da_."

"That would make me a _sonya_, yes?"

She giggled. What a sweet sound. "_Da_." She beamed at him. "Thank you…"

"Heracles. You can call me Ray."

"Ray…I am Katyusha. You can call me Kat."

He shook his head. "Katyusha is _ómorfo ónoma_…it's a beautiful name. Besides, I live around with too many cats…I think I'll call you Katyusha."

She shrugged. "I've never taken care of cats before."

"Oh. It's easy. You just let them be…If you need help, ask anyone near the church for the priest from Greece…they'll point you to my house."

"_Spasibo_—thank you, Mr. Ray."

He smiled. "Have a good day, Katyusha."

_"They sent just two men to my house to subdue me, Father. One of them told me my brother was in danger, and another held chloroform to my nose. The second man broke in from the back—we lived in a tiny shack, so it wasn't very hard."_

_"They knew where you lived."_

_"_Da_. My birth mother was a _shlyuka_—a prostitute. Every man with a _khuy_ knew where she lived—others knew her as the whore who sold her own daughter to the drug lords_."

Ray shook his head, trying to get her voice out. But now, he could imagine her sweet face convulsed with the pain of the memory, her blue eyes hard and watery, her long fingers interlocked, gripping each other tightly. He moved to the check-in counter and rubbed his face, but her voice refused to leave him.

_"What did your brother do once he found you?"_

_"He took me to the hospital, and told them he'd give them all the money in the world…The nurses told me that. While I was getting better, he shot my birth mother and father dead, shot all eleven men again…nobody dared to come close to him. Once my body was healed, we took a bus and we left our little town forever…Do you think…?"_

_"Tell me, daughter."_

_"Do you think that I made him into a monster? That because of me, he chose this path?"_

_"Daughter…I might not know your brother. I might only know him from what you've told me. But your brother is no monster…he's a saviour, and he himself doesn't know it yet. You just need to show him the goodness that lies within him."_

_"Can I?"_

_"Yes. Yes, you can._"

Ray didn't know what he was thinking when he said that, but he knew one thing.

He was going to bring out the happiness that lay within her.

* * *

"Where the hell did you get the money for a Victory Judge?"

"I call her Justice."

Nat snorted. "Dumb name."

"You didn't even give your bike a name."

"I like the name Harley."

"Wow. Imaginative."

Nat bared her teeth at him, but William came between them. "Break it up, mates. No fighting while you're on duty."

"Tell that to her."

"Tell him to stick to the cashier. His _goroshinu mogz_ can't handle anything more intelligent." Without waiting for a reaction, she skated off to take the last orders of the day. She was actually quite excited—but she'd never tell that _durak_ anything. She knew she could drive really fast, and she'd been to many friendly races against other gang racers—until Matt ratted on her to Francis, and Francis forbade her to race anymore. She rolled her eyes as she stuck the order on the line and yelled out the order. What would Francis say if she was going up against his elder son in a race?

He'd kill them both; that's what he'd do.

She'd been observing Francis the entire day. He looked better—more composed and almost normal. Almost, because he refused to meet any customer who wanted to talk to him about his food, and didn't so much as look at the bathrooms until Nat gave him the all clear—that part she did without asking. Alice had called once; he'd spoken quite normally to her—with the usual French foreplay over the phone that had made Nat want to gag. Al had grabbed her attention and done the tongue pointing thing, and she'd laughed.

She gave him another day before he was back to his flirty, raucous self, but still…it was during moments when she thought about it that she wanted to snap that girl's pretty neck in two. Or four. Or maybe a million pieces.

Francis yelled out the order and placed it on the counter. Al passed the three plates to Nat, who skated over and served the respective tables. The next ten minutes were spent in clearing up tables, greeting people goodbye—Francis had made sure she'd mastered the art, even though all she did was grimace at most people—and finally, helping her brothers with the dishes—another art they'd all mastered. Toris cleaned the plate of food and gave it to Nat. Nat washed the dishes with soap, rinsed and gave it to Eduard. Eduard wiped them and stacked them up. William cleaned up the counters inside and outside the kitchen while Al cleaned up the sitting area. Ravis assisted Francis in prepping the food for the next day. By the time they were done, it was close to eight—Francis was against the idea of running the restaurant at night, because he wanted to spend it with his family. And none of them said anything.

Finally, when they were all done, they all packed up, but Francis approached Nat. "Nat, help me set a table up."

"What's going on?"

"Me and the _ma femme_ are having a _dîner romantique…_She'll be here in another fifteen minutes."

"And you're going to be dressed like _this_?" Nat said disapprovingly, and sighed. "Go change. I'll set it up"—

"All on your own?"

"_Da_. Go."

"Ask Alfred where the things are. And no servers—we're using the cart"—

"You won't use anything dressed like that. Go!"

"_Merci,_ Nat, _merci_." He fled to the staffroom.

"Oi, _durak_—Jones! Help me set a table up!"

"Dad's thing?"

"_Da_."

"I'll set up the cart. You take care of the table. Dad's put the stuff in the staffroom."

"He's changing in the staffroom."

Al grinned with fake sympathy. "Sad."

Nat rolled her eyes, walked to the staffroom and banged on the door with her fist. "I need the things!" she said.

The door swung open, and Francis came out, holding a huge covered hanger in his hand. "It's on the fourth shelf," he said, and made a beeline to the bathroom. Nat grabbed the huge box on shelf four and looked inside. Tablecloth, the best plates and crockery, intricate tablemats, a candelabra…the works. A part of the restaurant branched outside in a semicircle, open to the gardens next to the parking lot. Nat set the boxes aside and moved a single table towards the low wall on the other end. She always imagined it as half a gazebo—secluded from the rest of the restaurant.

"Natalia, do you have the plates and stuff?"

"_Da_!"

"Get it here!"

Nat took out the tablecloth, candelabra, flower vase—she'd probably pluck a rose from the garden—floral tablemats, and some other miscellaneous stuff that wasn't the crockery, and took the entire box to the kitchen. She set it down on the floor, and watched as Al began putting all the food Francis had prepared onto the plates and trays. He set aside plates, side plates, knives, forks, spoons and two wine flutes, and turned to Nat. "Go put these on the table."

"You know a lot about fine dining."

"That's my dad's middle name."

She stacked them one after another, and turned to go. "We're never going racing today."

"Don't worry. We'll manage."

She snorted, clearly in doubt, but she just walked out. She set the crockery by the side, and prepped up the table. By the time she was done, Al rolled in the cart, holding a rose between his lips. He put his final touches and slipped the rose into the vase. "Done. Now let's get out of here," he said, sighing.

"How do I look?"

Al turned. Nat smiled. "Acceptable. We're leaving."

Francis nodded. "Good night, both of you. Alfred, you have to be home before ten."

"Yeah, dad. Have fun."

Nat patted him on his shoulder as she passed him. Francis watched as they walked out, got on their bikes, and roared away.

He was feeling nervous. Very, very nervous. He didn't know why, though. And—

Alice drove into the parking lot and parked bang in the middle. He chuckled, and that eased his nervousness a bit. Just like her to do something like that. She got out, and his breath stopped in his throat.

She'd let her hair down—some of it was swept back, and some of it framed her face, but it flowed over her back in golden waves. She was wearing an opal blue dress that reached just above her knees and a green shrug over it. She still wore her red rimmed glasses—she hated contacts, and he was very well aware of that. She wore little makeup—just a bit of eyeliner, gloss and blush. She didn't really need much more than that, and she absolutely detested makeup. She looked up, and smiled at Francis.

_Dieu_, but she was as nervous as she was.

He walked to the entrance, and held the door open.

"Good evening."

He kissed her on her cheek. "_Bonsoir_." The two of them walked to their table, and Francis pulled out the works—he held out her chair, served her, made use of the gallantry he was so famous for. She let him, because she knew it was his way of counteracting his nervousness. When he finally sat down, having served them both the first course, the first thing she said was, "I'm sorry, love."

He looked at her, her intense contrition reflected in his own eyes. "Don't be."

"I just…it was like that day. _Our_ day. And the timing…" Alice chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm pretty sure someone's set us up. I'm having it taken care of," Alice said quickly as he opened his mouth, "so don't worry about it. It's in good hands."

He nodded, and looked at his plate with a sad smile that made her feel dangerously empty inside. "I didn't realize how much she looked like _her_…the girl…"

"I hate that bitch."

Francis laughed. "_Mon dieu,_ I hate her, too."

"If she wasn't stuck in goddamned Russia I'd break her neck once and for all."

"We could hire out a theatre. I'd be the bait, someone could work the lights and you could snap her neck into four. Two pieces for me."

She laughed grimly. "Here we go again. Didn't we have some sort of agreement not to do…this…?"

"Must've slipped my mind."

Alice took a sip of the wine. "You just enjoy yourself too much, imagining me kill her."

He shrugged, and attacked his spring Niçoise salad.

"Hungry?"

"Very."

They polished off their plates, and Francis served the main course—spaghetti with grilled ratatouille, Alice's favourite. "Did you believe…?"

She looked up, mouth overflowing with spaghetti, and he laughed. He couldn't help it, and when she grew indignant, he laughed harder, clutching his stomach and covering his face. He heard her quickly eating her more-than-mouthful, and looked up, still shaking with mirth. "Sorry, _cherie_," he quickly said, and bit back a chuckle when she sat back and let out a loud harrumph. Shaking his head, he weaved his fork through the spaghetti and took a bite.

"If someone told me you'd flirted with her, I could believe it," she said, and he forgot how to breathe. "But you'd never hurt a woman intentionally or otherwise, I know that." He inhaled, and looked at her. "I was just…shocked. To have someone do something like that just two days after our anniversary is just…and in the process of trying to think, I completely forgot that"—

"Alice"—

"No, Francis. Let me finish. I forgot that you'd been as much a victim of it as I was and I…ran away. I'm sorry. Really sorry."

He sighed, and pushed his plate towards her. She looked up. "Really?"

"Not very hungry."

"You just said you were."

"I'll have half the dessert."

"What did you make?"

"Torte."

"Elaborate, husband dear."

"Chocolate-pomegranate torte."

"There better be some left for tomorrow."

"There's a lot, _mon cherie_."

She grinned as she upended his spaghetti and ratatouille onto her plate. "This is why I married you—because you make orgasmic food."

He grinned back. "I knew there was a reason you stayed for so long. _Putain_. Couldn't it have been my looks?"

Alice snorted. "Do you know much pleasure your food gives me?"

"Darling, you have no table etiquette."

"Nonsense. The British invented table etiquette."

"And you haven't learnt a single thing from your country."

Alice didn't dignify him with a response—she continued to shovel food into her mouth. He just rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, put his head on his fist and watched her. Somewhere between mouthfuls, she said, "Your mother called me today."

Francis blinked. "My _maman_?"

"Yes. The lady who birthed you."

"I know who"—he sighed. "What did she say?"

"She actually called me two days ago, but something came up for her…for both of us, so she called today. Belated happy anniversary, what's going on, whether I'm still off cooking"—he snorted—"the usual."

"Did you use your British sarcasm?"

Alice made a face at Francis. "Hey, I like your mother. I like both your parents," Francis snorted, so she added, "And I hate the rest of your family."

Francis knew what she was talking about. The damned wedding, followed by the two years after, had clearly demarcated the Bonnefoy's extended family into those who supported him and those who didn't. Even so, he, like Alice, came to trust nobody except his own parents. And it was all because of _her_. And the thought he'd had every single day for the first two years of his marriage, followed by every single wedding anniversary for the years after popped up into his head.

_Danielle Bonnefoy, you bitch, I hate you._

* * *

Nat banked sharply to the right, and wrenched the accelerator. Her bike arced, and shot straight down the road. She heard the roar of Justice over the roar of her own Harley, and moved down the road.

She was quite grateful to her helmet's visor—they were moving illegally fast, and it would be disastrous if something entered her eye and she ended up crashing into something. At the speed she was going, even the slightest bump into a larger rock would send her flying into the air, and into the hard concrete.

Al caught up to her, and his voice came over in the trans-receiver device he'd given her…she didn't know where he had the money to buy something like that. "Cool turn."

"Shut up. Where is the end?"

"Speed you're going…ten minutes."

She grinned devilishly. "What about now?" With a roar, she pushed her Harley faster, flying over the asphalt road.

"Seven. But I'll be there in four."

She snorted. "As if I'll let you."

"Try and stop me."

Without a reply, she prepared herself for the next curve. She slowed down, but she didn't have to lean like the last one—this curve was easier to take, so she just had to reduce her speed. She relaxed her grip on the accelerator, but her hand reflexively went to the brakes when Al cut in front of her—and speeded right off the road, howling the entire way down.

Nat's fingers jerked the brakes to the handlebars, and she felt her backwheel go up. With a snarl she balanced herself, brought it down and grabbed the microphone, holding it closer to her mouth. "Jones! Alfred! You fucking _durak_! Alfred! Alfred!"—What the hell had he done? He'd just gone twenty feet under and into the forest—in this darkness. What if he was hurt? That bloody—"Alfred, you _mudak_, will you"—

"If you scream anymore, my ears are going to blow."

Anger moved quickly over her relief. "What the fuck are you trying to do? Kill yourself?"

"Err, no. I'm gaining three minutes on you, and if you don't move fast, I'll be in North Scottsdale before you are."

That smug voice—"You bastard, I hope you rot in Scottsdale. I'm going home. You can pick up your damned receiver from where you jumped off."

"Nata"—

She tore the device off her head and tossed it on the ground. She turned her bike around, making sure to throw a lot of mud on his precious device, and sped off back towards W City.

What the fuck did he think of himself, jumping off like that? Was he trying to kill her before her time? There was trying to win and being a lunatic, and Nat hated lunatics. To hell with trying to be nice to Alfred F. Jones Bonnefoy—if he thought this was his idea of a practical joke or whatever the hell he wanted to call it, he was going to have to learn to avoid her like the plague, because she would shoot him where he stood the next time he tried to talk to her.

Her anger towards him bubbled and roared along with the roar of the engine, increasing by the second. She'd put considerable distance between both of them in five minutes, but on the next curve she saw Justice's lights reach the spot where she'd thrown the receiver and the money. With a growl, she picked up her speed—Justice was nothing but fast.

Well, she could be faster.

She'd given him a half hour to catch up with her, but he cut that time in half. _You want a race, you fucking _mudak_, come, I'll give you one_. They were nearly back to W City—she could see Scott's Garage. She looked at her gas meter—nearly empty. Cursing angrily, slowed, and turned towards the Garage, and heard Al follow.

At the sound of the engine, Tom Scott emerged from the little shack he liked to call his home, holding a baseball bat in one hand. "Get off my—Natalie?"

She drove inside, and parked her Harley. She removed her helmet. "It's Natalia, old man. You have any gas?"

Al stopped in front of the garage. Scott turned to her. "Who's that?"

"Dead dog meat," she muttered as she walked past Scott and towards Al, who was removing his goggles.

"Nat"—

"I really want to punch you right now."

He blinked, and then crossed his arms, giving her a smug look. "You shouldn't have told me, 'cause now I know you're"—

She punched him, her inner self cheerleading when her fist cracked his cheekbone with painful audibility. Behind her, Scott shook his head, muttering something about the state of young people these days, and walked to the Harley.

Al staggered a ways back, clutching at the side of his face shrieking with pain. He opened his mouth, and the pain spread through his entire face, making him want to kill something—preferably himself.

"I _hate_ it when you take that tone with me, _ublyudok_!" Nat yelled at him. "_Kagoko khrena_…What the hell is wrong with you?"

He walked past her, hell bent on getting himself an ice pack, or anything cold, for his cheek. He walked to the cooler, took out a can of something he didn't really care about, and held it to his cheek, mentally yelling at the pain. He walked back to Nat, sarcastically thanking her in his head for meeting him halfway. "What's wrong…with me?" he asked, anger simmering. "Fuck you, Natalia, but I'm not the one punching people because I have PMS."

"I'm not the one jumping off hillock roads. You idiot, what were you"—

"Were you scared?"

"That tone of yours makes me want to torture you, Jones. Don't make me break your nose this time."

He took two steps away from her, getting out of her arm range. "You were scared."

That was _it_. "Yes, you bastard, I was scared! Who the hell wouldn't be? You were bloody jumping off tracks and acting like a royal"—

"Thank you."

And that snapped her. She picked up the nearest thing and threw it at him. The spanner missed him by inches.

"Oh my freaking God, Natalia, do you want me dead?"

"_Da_! That way, I won't die of heart failure!"

"Take this outside, you brats! Natalie, I'm done."

She glared at Al. "I'm done, too." Huffily, she walked towards her Harley, but Al grabbed her as she walked past and spun her around. She bared her teeth at him. "Get your arm off me, or I'll make you regret it."

"I'm sorry for scaring you, and thank you."

They were so close she could see the shards of azure and green in his blue eyes. She lowered her voice to match his murmur. "I still hate you."

"I know." Those blue eyes filled with kindness she never thought he was capable of. "But I don't hate you that much anymore."

What was—With a growl, she pushed him away. "If you act out of character again, _durak_, I will break your nose this time." She turned and walked to her Harley, paid Scott, and got onto her bike.

"You're just scared that I'm not all big and bad and mean as you thought I was, Natalia."

Somewhere inside her, where she could be true to herself, that stung. That stung quite badly. She didn't give him the satisfaction of replying. She pulled on her helmet, wished Scott a good night, and felt like driving past Alfred, but for some reason, she'd suddenly developed a conscience. She stopped by him, gave him a short, "Good night," and sped off, thinking about what he said.

_You're just scared that I'm not all big and bad and mean as you thought I was, Natalia._

The thought was stuck in her head like the bad lyric to an awful song. With a snarl, she accelerated faster, not really caring about who woke up to the sound of her Harley.

Khuy tebe_, Jones, but when the hell did you suddenly get so intelligent?_

* * *

**A/N: Adei and I are going to start a club called 'Hopeless at Maths'…'cause we're, well, hopeless. At Maths. (Duh). And check out '**Beauty and the Beast**' by I'veMadeItMyOTP (That's Adei)…it's got a pairing you'll never believe, but it's awesome.**

**I just had the ultimate Canada experience yesterday—the evening was a combination of being invisible and ignored, and all the spotlight shone on my elder brother. Then I called up Radium and bitched for a while, and everything was alright. But it's not my brother's fault, so he's safe.**

**Henceforth, for any kind of food, I'm going to use the FineCooking website www . finecooking . com …I could get a heart attack just by looking at all the French desserts. Speaking of which, if any of you think Francis is OOC, it's because he really, really hates Danielle Bonnefoy...or else, you wouldn't have him calling any woman anything degrading. That ought to tell you how much he hates her.**

**If you guys like this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	15. Chapter 14: Threesomes & dinner at Raj's

**A/N: I've been staring at this blank page for the past five minutes…and now I'm watching my brother scare my dog. Good times.**

**These author notes have become a diary of sorts for me—there're more my thoughts than actual ****_notes_****. So, henceforth, A/N will become A/T…that just looks so weird. But, well, whatever. Now if any perv on the net wants to know about me, he/she can read My Friend Natalia. (And hopefully leave reviews, too.) I'm reading Nodame Cantabile…it's HILARIOUS. If you want something completely out of the freaking blue, go read it.**

**I told Radium the entire story of MFN—history and future—and the first thing she said was, "So much drama…" I didn't take offense, because drama is a good thing especially since I have nil in my own life. I'm Indian, people—I thrive on drama.**

**Now, how to start this chapter…?**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

_This one—hell, the entire goddamn story's for cyjanidybel. People, the updated cover image is from darling Jani—I'm in tears. T-T I'm really gonna cry…oh fuck. So, anyone who reviews now HAS to thank Jani for giving MFN such an amazing picture. I feel words are so bloody insignificant to thank you for what you've done. Thank you, thank you so much._

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 14

_This has _got_ to be a dream._

The edges were blurry—the area outside Nat's vision mixed into the background outside, the sounds grew sharp at times, then dropped, and this dream had got to be impossible.

She willed her brain to make her look down. Nat, from an early age, had control over most of her dreams—she just had to prompt her brain to do something. Nat looked down, and found herself looking at unblemished, fair, uncovered skin which happened to belong to her. She knew she hadn't gone to sleep naked, and she had enough scars over her body to make even gangsters blanch.

And the two men on either side weren't gangsters.

"Natalia…"

"Go to sleep, _durak_," she said, kicking Matt in the stomach. "Or get out of my dre"—she yelped as a pair of strong arms slipped from behind, curving over her torso. One large hand pressed down on her hip, and another covered her breasts. Nat gasped at the unbearable heat shooting through her, and bit back a moan when one hand slipped lower than her hips, inching to her thigh.

They dragged her back, against something hard and warm. One strong leg draped itself over her hip, pinning her on her side. Those long, rough fingers moved in slow, lazy circles over her heated skin, and moved slower and slower to the peak and core.

"Aww, Natalia," Alfred whispered into her ear, his hot breath fanning her earlobe. He ran the tip of his tongue over her ear, and breathed into her ear again. "You like this. I know you like this." She began to growl, but it turned to a purr as his teeth sunk into the sensitive flesh of her neck.

Matt came over, muscles rippling powerfully over naked skin. Absently, she congratulated her mind on giving him that extra buff, but she was distracted by her ongoing fantasy. Al sat up, dragging her with him, and Matt cupped her cheek. "Don't worry, Nat." Her vision was blurring, and she couldn't even _think_. He was drawing closer and closer. His thumb slipped under her chin, and she raised her head. Al's mouth was doing _things_ to her neck—he was sucking her skin in with his whole mouth, running his tongue over it, pressing it...his hands…She tilted her head further back, but Matt's hand held her in place.

"Let go," she whispered between gritted teeth.

"Sorry, Nat," Matt said, his mouth nearly on hers. "Not happening."

His tongue slipped in first—she'd told him so many times she hated it when guys put their tongues in first, thinking it was so macho when it was quite disgusting, actually—but somehow…it was _good_.

_More than—oh!_

Matt's lips pressed onto hers, his hand cupping her other breast. He ran a thumb over her nipples, and bit down on her lip. She moaned loudly into his mouth, felt him shiver. She slipped her hands into his hair, eased herself out of Al's grip and pushed Matt back, planning to kiss him unconscious. But, apparently, she hadn't counted on Al being there—she broke off the kiss and gasped when he slipped his fingers in. Al's chuckle played over her supersensitive senses, and her hands fisted into Matt's hair.

"Oww, Nat," he said, somehow slipping out of her grasp. Before she could question the mechanics of the dream, she was on her back, with both Al and Matt towering over her.

_How the fuck is this happening?_

As she blinked at them both hazily, trying to clear her damn head, Al turned to Matt. "I wanna kiss her now."

Nat raised an eyebrow, and willed her brain to have someone kissing her—hell to both of them, but this was _her_ dream.

And Al had his wish—he tasted of chocolate. With a small smile of delight, she thanked the mechanics of the dream, and kissed him back.

_You are kissing Alfred Jones!_

_I am kissing chocolate. _

And that was enough of an argument for her. He ran his tongue over hers, raised his hands to her face, changed angles, slipped his tongue again.

_What about a chocolate coated tongue? Or bodies?_

But before she could prompt her brain to do that little bit for her, Al broke the kiss, and licked her.

Right on her damn face.

He licked her again, with the sexiest expression on his face that made her wonder whether she should laugh or cry. She pushed him back, and fell into Matt. "Why does your tongue feel like _sandpaper_?" she snapped at him. Behind her, Matt dissolved and disappeared into thin air, and so did Al, but the _licking didn't stop_.

_Lick. Lick. Lick. Lick._

Nat's eyes flew open, and she found herself staring into droopy green eyes.

_Lick_.

"_AAAARGH!_"

The entire household, seated at the kitchen's island counter, all jumped ten feet into the air. Kat, who was flipping a pancake, forgot to catch it, letting it fall on the stove and slip down with a slopping sound. The four men got up and ran; Kat followed after switching off the stove. They all thundered to Nat's room, and Ivan, forgetting what Kat had told him about knocking on a lady's door, threw the door open. "What"—

"_Pochemu yest' koshka zdes'?_" she yelled, pointing at the green and black ball of fur sitting on her bed.

"_Prrau._"

Kat began laughing nervously and moved through her brothers, smiling apologetically at her sister as she picked up the cat and put it on her shoulder. "_Izvinite_," Kat apologized as the cat settled on her shoulder. "Umm…meet Sonya."

"I am going to _ubit' etogo kota_!" Nat growled, trying to grab the cat. Kat stepped back, picked up the cat and put it on the ground. "Natalia, _net_. This is _sestry_ _koshka_. I say we keep her."

"_Sestra_."

Kat turned around to see Ivan rubbing the bridge of his nose. "This is a _cat_, _sestra_. We've never had a pet."

"I want a dog," Ravis whined, and Toris hushed him before Ivan could give him a bone-chilling smile.

"I got her…from a friend. His name is Ray—he's a…aahh…" Kat looked at all the stunned faces around her, and put her hands on her hips, irritated. "_Kakuyu_ _reaktsiya_ _eto_?"

"Y-You have a…friend?" Nat asked, stunned.

"Natalia Arlovskaya, I will hit you,_ glupaya devchonka_. Of course I have friends."

"Do you know how to care for this cat?" Ivan asked her, completely serious.

She met him with the same serious look in her eyes. "I shall learn."

That took Ivan back to when Katyusha had found Toris, bleeding to death in an alley. She'd spent all their little grocery food in getting him treated, and when that hadn't been enough, she'd sold all the new clothes she'd gotten for herself, and used that money. When Ivan had raged, she'd told him the same thing she was saying just then—_YA nauchus'_.

Ivan just shook his head and turned to leave.

"Ivan? _Brat_?"

"_Da_?" he asked.

"We…ahh…we have been invited…to…" her voice grew smaller as Ivan stared at her with a mixture of suspicion and incredulity. "…We've been invited for dinner…by the Sharma family"—

"The Indian's family?" Toris asked, astound. "Really?"

"Wait…" Ivan said, holding up a hand. "You've known him for only a day. And we're being invited already?"

In response, Katyusha smiled sweetly, with a 'What-can-I-do' expression on her face.

Ivan groaned, and turned to leave. He'd forgotten that when his sister actually mingled with people, she was instantly liked. "_Otlichno_. Fine. We shall go." Shaking his head, he turned and left for ice hockey practice before his family could pull him into some other kind of insanity.

Something flashed in his head, and he turned to Eduard. "Eduard!"

"_Da_!"

"Did you download the software onto Katyusha's phone?"

He nodded, and turned to Kat, who was coming out. He took out her phone from his pocket, and showed her how to use the emergency application on her mobile. She nodded at whatever he was saying, and at the end of it, looked up to ask Ivan why, but he wasn't there.

"Brother's noticed you moving around a lot more," Eduard said, noticing her quizzical expression. "He wants you to be safe."

Kat looked at Eduard, and pulled him into a hug before anyone could say anything. "_Spasibo, brat_."

Eduard smiled and leaned into his sister's embrace, happiness filling him.

His elder sister was back.

* * *

"You look tired."

Matt opened his eyes and saw Lili standing over him, smiling. He stopped leaning against the boards and turned to her. "Lili. Hi."

She handed him a bottle of water, and he smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I came with my big brother," Lili said, pointing towards where Basch was standing, talking to Gilbert. "You men look…"

"Wiped out?" Matt asked, smiling tiredly. Ivan walked up to them, took Matt's bottle from him and poured half of it over his head. "Excuse me, Miss Zwingli, comrade." He shook his head, making Lili and Matt laugh in protest.

Out over at the side, Peter sighed. Berwald blinked, and turned to his son. "Wh't is th' m'tter, son?"

He sighed again.

Berwald blinked, getting even more confused. "Son"—

"Why am I not tall, dad?"

"W-Why?" Was this the thing Tino was telling him about? What had his wife told him about dealing with such situations?

Peter turned his sullen eyes towards Berwald. "You don't know, do you, daddy?"

"I…ah…"

Peter mumbled something and put his head on his knees.

Berwald quickly moved towards Tino, who was busy drinking juice by the side. "Tino. _Tino_. S'mething's wrong w'th our son, Tino."

"Hmm?"

"Peter. He w'nts to kn'w why he is not t'll."

Tino frowned. "Berwald, I just—What is it, Peter?"

"I'm going."

Tino's jaw dropped as he watched his son, who never missed a single minute of practice, make his way out of the rink and the establishment.

"What's going on?" Tino said, turning to Berwald. He shrugged uncomfortably. "I dunno. I thought, maybe…"

"I might be the 'mother' here, Berwald, but I don't know—I know!"

"You do?"

"Berwald, get me my phone," Tino said. "I know someone who can understand Peter."

*x*

"How did you get all the way up there?"

Peter looked down, and stuck his tongue out. "None of your business."

Alice narrowed her eyes, mentally glad for wearing slacks. She climbed up the planks nailed to the trunk of the tree that served as ladder steps, and swung herself onto the same branch as Peter, and crawled over to the wooden ledge on the branch.

"Don't you have something to do? Some company to buy over?"

"Hah-hah, very funny, kid. What are you doing, skipping practice?"

Peter drew his knees towards him. "What's the point? It's not as if I'm going to play anyways."

Alice looked at her youngest sibling. She always admired him—she never let the twerp know, though. There had been a time where he was as big as her palm, and there had been a time when he could never walk, and there had been a time when he could coordinate his arms and legs. And yet, according to Tino, player extraordinaire, Peter played the best ice hockey anywhere. "You sorry sod, you play for the game. You play for yourself," she said.

"I can't play now, I can't play to represent W City. 'Cause I'm too short."

"That's not what you're acting like a drama queen for." When Peter turned to her, stunned, she snorted. "I am your sister, you arse. I know you. Now, spit it."

He grumbled, and placed his chin on his knees. Alice watched him, and watched as a blush grew over his cheeks.

"What's her name?"

As much as she was having fun watching her brother stutter and stumble all over the place, she'd left a warm bed, a sexy husband and a lazy morning to take care of her brother. "Spit it, brat. Her name."

"L-Lili."

"Zwingli?"

He nodded, and buried his head between his legs, embarrassed.

"Is she taken?"

"I-I don't know."

"Who's your competition?"

He got angry at that one. "Every wanker on that bloody team, including your son."

Alice laughed. "My son? My son's already busy elsewhere. You don't have to worry about any competition"—

"What if she likes him?"

"You make her like _you_, Peter. But before all that, get to know the girl," Alice said. "A girl needs a friend more than a boyfriend, and knowing whether you like the same things makes that difference. You can't make her like you if she doesn't like, say…blueberry jam, right?"

Peter _loved_ blueberry jam. "Which creature of God doesn't like blueberry jam?" he demanded, outraged.

"The blueberry."

Peter chuckled, and Alice ruffled his hair. "Become her friend first. Everyone needs a friend, don't they?"

He nodded.

"Besides, you know mum's blueberry jam recipe. That should get you started, right? Make some jam, give it to everyone, see if she likes it."

Peter grinned at his elder sister. "Sounds like a plan."

Alice smiled at him, then turned to look into the distance. "You really scared your parents, your arse. They truly love you. Go back give them both a hug, okay?"

He nodded, and slipped his arm around Alice's waist, leaning into her side. She sighed as she hugged her brother to her side. She might've left a warm bed, a sexy husband and a lazy morning to be with her brother, but she would do it again and again, as long as he needed her.

"You've grown fat."

Peter's howl of pain was heard by everyone around.

* * *

"I shall join you there, _sestra_. Practice is taking longer now."

"_Vse v poryadke_," Kat said. "I shall see you there, _da_?"

"Hmm. _Uvidimsya pozzhe_."

"_Uvidimsya pozzhe, brat_."

She cut the call, and turned to her family. "Let us go, then. Ivan will be joining us later."

"Do you want me to drop you off?" Francis asked, coming out. "I got the car today—Alice is working from home."

Katyusha shook her head. "_Net, net_—We can manage. _Spasibo_, papa Francis, but do not trouble yourself."

"It's not a problem, Bonnefoy," Natalia said. "I have the side carriage fixed, so _sestra_ can travel in that. Don't worry, we're alright."

"_Trés bien alors_," Francis said. "Have a nice night, then. But I'm warning you, Raj's family cooks up very spicy food."

Nat smirked. "A change, then, from butter heaps." She yelped when Kat hit her on her head, bursting into rapid Russian. Nat replied back, but she didn't argue—she just muttered something and walked away.

"_Mne ochen' zhal'_—I am very sorry, papa Francis. I hope she hasn't been troubling you," Kat said. "I hope none of my siblings have been any trouble to you."

Francis waved it off. "They've been of more help than I can imagine. I'm very grateful to have them, Katyusha."

She smiled sweetly, and Francis felt a sense of paternal love towards the bright, cheerful girl who had left them for a very long time.

"Good night, papa Francis."

"Good night, Katyusha. And welcome back."

Kat smiled, huddled up her brothers, and walked out of Bonnefoy's.

*x*

"Hello, Katyusha! So glad you all could make it!" Raj said, standing at the doorway.

Katyusha smiled, and all of them went into the large house. Katyusha turned to Raj. "We are very grateful that"—

"Oh, nonsense," he said, shaking his head. "It's a delight to have guests at our house, although I should warn you, Indian _mehman navazi_—Indian hospitality is something that you've never seen before."

"Is that good or bad?" Nat blurted without thinking.

Raj laughed. "I don't know, Miss Natalia. You'll have to tell me."

Within ten minutes, the five of them were cleaned up, sat down, served snacks and introduced to the enormous Sharma family. Still reeling from the mountain-loads of sweets and savouries put before them, as well as trying to remember all the names of the cousin's cousins, they were thoroughly interrogated, but when all of them became uncomfortable, Raj's mother changed the topic to a commonly overabused conversation line—marriage.

"So, Natalia, when are you going to get married?"

Natalia blushed a deep red. "M-Married?"

"_Hahn_. You have to get married sometime, no? Especially when you're young enough."

"_Bacchi ka umr kya hain_?"

Nat blinked at Raj's grandmother. Raj's mother turned to her. "She's asking how old you are."

"I…ah…"

"_Amma_, leave her alone," Raj said, coming into the room. "Here, people get married whenever they want."

"But, _beta_"—

"Leave it, ma. Is the food ready?"

At once, nearly three fourth of the female population sitting in the large living room—there were nearly fifteen of them there—moved to the kitchen almost at the same time. The men sat there, and began interrogating the three boys as to when _they_ would get married.

"_Appa_"—

Guru Sharma turned to his son, and held up his hand at his son's interruption. "We have to talk about something, Raj. If it's not her marriage, it's his marriage."

"But I'm very sure they aren't going to get married any time soon, _appa_."

"I will tell you something," Guru said, turning from Raj to the Russians. "Nobody has ever lived happily alone. Marriage has its problems, but nobody has ever been happy living alone. We might have been born alone and we might die alone, but we can never live alone—we are human beings. We need people, no matter who we are. At the end of the day, we want somebody waiting for us. Marriage not only does that, it also gives rise to a good, healthy society. And, Raj, _ve toh apne bachpan ke bare mei bat nahi karna chahate, toh hum kiske bare mein bat kare_?"

Raj nodded his head, and sat down. His family didn't want to make the Russians uncomfortable, but they were unwilling to open up about their past, and the Sharmas really didn't know what to say to that. Raj had told them what kind of a reputation they had all built, and what little history he knew about them, but he too didn't want to step on any landmines that might have been accumulated in their childhood. "_Aapki marzi_." _As you wish_.

Kat looked from father to son, and looked at the sweet she had in her hand. "We were all born in Russia," she started without prelude, registering the shock on everyone's face. "We are not related to each other by blood, except for me and my brother Iva"—

Raj and Natalia spoke at the same time. "Katyusha, it's okay"—

"_Sestra—Sestra, _you don't have to say anything," Nat said quietly and quickly.

"We are enjoying their hospitality, _da_? We must tell something about ourselves, Nat," Katyusha told her gently, and turned to Guru Sharma. "My brother and I are the only ones related by blood. We left our birth city and roamed around Russia. These four are the children we found abandoned, freezing in different cities. We adopted them, and we're a family now."

All of them heard Katyusha's unsaid words. _And that is all you need to know_.

Raj's cousin sister, Aishwarya, came to the door. "Food's ready."

Guru looked at Katyusha. "Where is your brother, Ivan?"

Aishwarya started in rapid Hindi, and Guru nodded. "It seems he's giving my brother's sons a lift back home, and they've asked us to start without them," Guru said, and smiled at the Russians. "Let us go and eat."

All of them walked to the dining hall, and gasped.

The enormous table that probably seated more than fifty wasn't what surprised them. The amount of _food_ that they thought filled more than fifty people, all heaped over plates after plates, was what shocked them. Dazed, they looked as Guru spoke to the women, and turned to Raj and told him something. Raj frowned, and shook his head, but Guru persisted. In the end, Raj turned to the Russians. "I need your honest opinion on this," he started slowly.

"Is there a problem?" Toris asked.

"Not a problem…it's…I told you my grandmother has three sons and two daughters, and all three sons live here, with her. Usually, we have food on our own, and then we go and get together later, or we all sit down on these small wooden seats and have our food, since it's feels…closer. So my parents are wondering whether since all of us are here, we should have food on the table or we should shift it and sit down. What do you say?"

"Whatever's more convenient," Eduard said. "We don't mind it."

All of them nodded. Raj went and spoke to his father for a while, then turned to the Russians and said, "Please, take a seat."

It took ten minutes to settle down, and by the time they sat down, Ivan, Aryan and Acharya arrived from ice-hockey practice. They decided to serve the first course, and by the time everyone was served, the ice hockey players had come to the dining hall, cleaned up and freshened. Ivan again was introduced to everyone, and most of them were surprised by the amiability of the head Russian—if not from Raj, they had heard stories from a lot of other people, but Ivan was clearly not that man.

The younger ones ate with spoons and forks; the older members ate with their hands. Ivan observed them for a while, saw the way they ate. "They are only eating with their right hand, _da_?" Ivan said, turning to Acharya, who was sitting next to him.

"Yes. We only eat with our right hands—with us, the right hand is used to do good things, and the left is…umm…when we were potty trained, we used our left hand to clean ourselves. Although we don't do it now, we still don't eat with our left hands—it's wrong. And we try to keep our palms as clean as possible—at least mine and Guru uncle's family does. We only eat with our fingers. Do you want to try?"

Ivan smiled. "Why not?"

Ivan abandoned his spoon and fork and began eating with his hand. Soon, all six of them were eating with their hands—they had problems when they were served hot food, but the entire family taught them how to cope with hot food, and advice was coming in from all around them, so it wasn't easy to ignore.

Toris burnt his mouth, Ravis ended up eating very spicy biryani, and Eduard ate two servings of everything. Katyusha was told what food was good to lose weight, Nat was told what food was good to _gain_ weight, and Ivan ended up being fed two servings of everything. By the time the dessert came in, all of them were full and didn't know if they could eat any more.

"We actually brought a lot of chocolate ice cream to give all of you," Shree, Raj's mother, said. "But my son told me to 'go Indian' even with the dessert. But you'll have to take a tub home—there's too much in the house."

"Amma, there's never 'too much chocolate ice cream'," Devi, Raj's sister, quipped.

"Yes, and all of you gulp in tubs of ice cream before I can blink, then you complain the entire week about stomach ache. No thank you," Shree replied back, and looked at the Russians staring at their dessert. "It's called Ras malai," she said. "It's basically _paneer_…" At most of their blinks, she turned to Raj for help.

"It's what you call cottage cheese or curd cheese," Raj explained. "It's made into balls, then it's dropped in simmering milk which is flavoured by cardamom, almonds, saffron. It's a lot more than that, but that's what I remember. It's usually had after a meal. We eat it with a spoon, but the oldies"—

"Raj!"

Raj and Shree began arguing about his manners, and Acharya let out a loud sigh that turned the attention of that section of the table to him. "What happened to you, drama queen?" Aishwarya taunted, and they began calling each other names that Ivan played close attention to. It was always handy to know a few swear words in different languages. Finally, when they both stopped, Acharya said, "There's this girl…"

All of them groaned, but Ivan could see the twinkle of interest in their eyes. "It's always a girl," one of them said.

"Tell us, no?"

"What is this girl like?"

"Her name's Lili," Acharya started, and gave an entire, romantic, detailed description about how sweet, nice and natural Lili was. Ivan had expected them to all be bored, but, instead, their attention seemed to grow more intense.

When it came to love and marriage, Indians were a funny lot.

"So, what's your problem?" one of them asked.

Aishwarya laughed. "This fellow wouldn't be able to get a _gadhi_ to like him, forget a normal human being."

One of them chastised her while the others laughed. Acharya called her a _gadhi_—female donkey—and the insult hurling began.

"Will the two of you stop it?" Raj snapped, and all of them grew silent. Finally, Aishwarya herself asked, "What is your problem?"

"I think she already likes someone else," Acharya said. "She likes that Matthew guy."

All the Russians stilled, and turned to Acharya. "_What_?" they all yelled together, scaring the daylights out of the poor lad.

Nat groaned, and stuffed herself with Rasmalai. This day was so screwed up—first that dream, then working the whole day with one of the three people in that dream, and now _this_.

Was her love life teetering off the edge before it could already begin?

* * *

Kat did not know how to care for a cat.

It was very sad, actually, so she put on her shawl, put the cat on her shoulder and decided to find Ray.

She didn't have to search far—she decided to go to the church via the park, and found him fast asleep on a bench there. She shook him. "Ray. Ray. Wake up."

He opened his eyes rather suddenly, and she found herself looking at those green eyes again. She found them to be a strange shade—they were olive green irises, like a mature, old leaf. They had a twinkle of mischief tempered and toned down by laziness, and mostly hidden under something that Katyusha guessed as vast knowledge of the world. Those eyes grew pleasant, and she didn't have to look at his face to know he was smiling—it was all in those half-open eyes of his. He got up, unaware that another cat had made its way atop his head. "Hello, Katyusha."

She smiled sheepishly. "I need your help with Sonya."

Ray looked at the bench, and looked back at her. "If I sit down now, I'll very likely fall asleep. Let us walk."

She nodded, and Ray began telling her all about cats. "In a way, it's easier to care for cats—all they ask you is to feed them, pet them and treat them like royalty. You could bathe them, but that's not necessary, and they groom themselves, but you'll have to brush them once in a while. I feed them thrice a day, and change their water once every day." He spoke some more about vaccination, their habits and their territorial behaviour. "Cats have a habit of bringing in garbage, like dead rats or fishbones. They also have a bad habit of scratching all the furniture. You'll have to bring them scratch posts or bring this sheet which you can attach to your furniture."

Soon, they found themselves nothing to talk about, and they had walked all the way outside the park. Kat looked around. "They have really made this place pretty, haven't they?"

Ray blinked. "You mean, it isn't always like this?"

"_Net_." And she told him what little she knew about the ice-hockey matches she'd heard about.

"Ice-hockey…that's why they have decorated W City…but this is not a city, as such. It's a big town, but it's not a city."

"Well, W Town doesn't have the same ring as W City, now"—

"Oh, look. Kat's got a cat on her shoulder."

That voice…she _hated_ that voice, _despised _it. She started shaking with fear and anger, her head hanging down as she stuffed her clenched fists into the pockets of her skirt. Her hand touched her mobile phone, and she remembered the software Eduard had downloaded for her.

_"Brother's noticed you moving around a lot more. He wants you to be safe."_

She felt for the buttons, but felt Ray turn around. "Let's go," she whispered. "_Ray_. Let us _leave_."

At her urgent whisper, Ray turned around, and they began walking away. Kat heard the ping of the application commencement.

"Kat's running away. Oh, let's go catch her."

"How about I give you a ball of yarn, Kat? Will you play with me?"

She remembered all those times where they'd said the same things—they'd made fun of her funny accent, her pudgy face, her enormous breasts and her hair which used to end in ringlets. She'd stopped talking to people, she never ate again, she took the shawl mama Alice gave her and kept it as a lifeline, and she cut her hair short. She pressed the button. Why did these people scare her? What power did they have over her? They must have had _some_ power—to get her to stop talking to people and cut her hair. Even her own brother couldn't get her to do anything, and _he_ was more intimidating than all these buffoons.

Next to her, Ray turned. Well, she wasn't going to let him fight on his own, sweet man that he was. Besides, she had a fighter-cock sister whom she'd raised with her own hands. If she hadn't picked up anything from Natalia, there was no way anyone else could have.

She turned around, a bored, deadpan expression on her face, and spat on the ground. "You want to play with me, do you, _ublyudok_?" Thank god none of her siblings were there—they would all faint if they heard her swear. But, _chert_, this felt _good_. Really good.

"Come right up, _mudak_, and I'll scratch your eyes out."

* * *

**A/T: I fell asleep writing this…and my laptop fell asleep, too.**

**Next up: Ivan doing some rescuing. Now, this makes me laugh, because in Adei's '**Beauty and the Beast**', he's doing the right opposite—Adei, thank you for updating! I freaked out when I saw the alert!**

**Guys, if you love the cover pic, send Jani a shout-out (a PM) to this url: httlp : / www. fanfiction u/1930810/ That'll just about make her the happiest person alive! Me too, since this is the first time someone did something like this for me.**

**I have good news and bad news, so bad news first, because that's what happens in the books. And movies.**

**Bad news: My college is starting from June 10****th****, and I'm going to a place where they recommend you to study for 14 hours a day to stay in par with what's going on in class. We have tests every Monday, and PU tests once two months, I think, so it's going to be hectic. This is probably my last on schedule chapter—taking my schedule to be once every three days. The chapters coming up will be erratically updated, but I WILL write, no matter who says what.**

**Good news: For all those who've read MFN and supported me through your reviews and constant PM-chatting, I'm making this MFN side drabble thing which is dedicated to all you guys! Send me pairing requests (common, uncommon, with OC) and what you'd like to see between that pair to me through PM, and I'll put it up sometime before June 6****th****. It's my birthday present to all of you, which is weird but true. DV, LeHof (Turtlehoffmann) and Adei've already told me, so I'm going to start working on that now. Do let me know asap, 'cause I have less than a WEEK to do this.**

**Well, that's my updates for all of you. Goodbye, holidays…T-T**

**If you enjoyed this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	16. My Birthday Treat - Dangerous Games

**A/T: As my birthday treat and as a BIG THANK YOU to all the people who've been really supportive of MFN**** through all their PMs and their reviews and likes, I decided to make this side thing. If any of you guys have a request, PM me and I'll put it up.**

**I don't know whether to keep it as a separate thing or not, but I'll just put it up with MFN until I can make my mind up**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. But MFN's storyline is all mine.**

* * *

**My Birthday Treat**

* * *

**Prompt: Francis and Alice in a costume party**

* * *

**_Dedicated to TurtleHoffmann2251 (LeHoff)_**

**Pairing(s):**** Francis x Alice**

**_For calling me broski…^^_**

* * *

Dangerous Games

"We want to par-tay!"

The entire class roared in agreement. Gilbert crossed his arms smugly as the teacher's eyes darted from side to side, not knowing what to say. Of course, the class became dead silent as Elizabeta rose and swung her metal bottle at his head, knocking him off his feet. She slammed her hand on the desk as Gilbert fell on Antonio, and looked around, assessing everyone with narrowed eyes. All of them gulped as those green eyes glittered in judgement, then turned to the teacher who was looking at her with grateful eyes.

Eliza smirked. "We want a _costume_ par-tay!"

The class got to their feet and roared, and the poor teacher ran out of the class and to the principal's office. Unaware, all of them began talking about the next course of action, and some of the dreamers began talking about where to get the costumes and the best costume shops in W City. As soon as the principal arrived, all of them stopped talking and stood straight.

Athena Doxiadis looked at all her students in their eyes, and said, "Sit down, please."

They all slowly sat down. Athena walked to the table, and stood. "Elizabeta, Gilbert, stand."

Elizabeta stood, and yanked Gilbert up.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"We"—

Eliza elbowed Gilbert in the side, looked into Athena's eyes. "Ma'am, we want a costume party."

Athena smiled. "Really? A costume party? That sounds fun."

Eliza brightened a bit. "So, ma'am"—

"No."

Eliza's jaw dropped.

"I have got nothing but trouble and bad grades from this class. Do you know how that's affecting this university? No. But you all want a costume party. Isn't that just fine and dandy?"

She slammed her hands on the table, and all of them gulped in sync. "Give me something above 90% from each and every one of you, and we'll talk about a costume party. Am I clear?"

* * *

"That worked out well," Alice said, biting into her Beef Wellington.

Eliza was in tears. "What the hell does the principal think about me now, Alice? She must think I'm an idiot."

"She thinks we're all idiots, anyways. Besides, this just gives you an excuse to study. Why not take it?"

"I'll study, but will they…?" she asked, pointing at the Bad Touch Trio who were walking towards them.

"Save your food," Alice advised, pulling her lunchbox close to her. "And run," she said drily. "What do you want?"

"What can the awesome Gilbert"—

Eliza hit him with her bottle, and Alice rolled her eyes at her. The remaining two standing members of the Bad Touch Trio watched as they did the 'girl thing'—talk with their eyes and basically giggle at the end—and shook their heads. "Look, we need help"—

"If it's help with the costume party," Alice said, interrupting Francis, "You three don't need our help to look gay. You already do."

"I'm going to take offense to that, _mon ami_," Francis said, narrowing his eyes.

Alice turned in her chair, cocked one leg over the other and raised an eyebrow at him. "Why? Weren't you grabbing Gilbert's arse—oops, _derriere_—in your latest post? But if you're having problems getting dressed, lads, I suggest you dress up as—what was that show? Hmm…I know! You could dress up as the Powerpuff Girls!"

Francis had a way with the ladies, but this _femme idiote_ really put him on the edge. He dragged a seat to her and sat on it, leaning forward on the backrest. "Listen to me—I need help with the exams. _We_ need help with the exams."

"Ooh, exams. Doesn't that put a sock to your womanizing?"

"I have never cheated on you"—

"Because you know I'll have your bollocks and todger around my neck."

"I hate it when you go British on me, _mon ami_."

Alice tilted her head cockily. "You thought I sounded sexy."

Antonio was doing his best to butter Elizabeta up, but she, like Alice, wasn't buying any. But Antonio was persistent and very glib, and somehow made her agree to drag in Alice to teach them all.

"Ehh? Eli, you arse! What's wrong with you?" Alice yelled at Eliza.

"I'm sorry, Alice, I"—

"We want something in return," Alice said, slamming her hand on the table.

Antonio, the densest of the lot, just smiled at her as the other two—Gilbert had risen from the ashes—gulped. "Yeah, sure!"

Alice's face reminded Francis of a hunter, and he was very sure they were the prey.

* * *

Retribution was taken—there were pictures of the Bad Powerpuff Trio all over school, and Alice and Eliza were handing over the more embarrassing pictures at an expensive rate. Still, Alice and Eliza tutored the Bad Powerpuff Trio—as Alice confessed during one of her snogging sessions with Francis, they somehow managed to make even the Powerpuff Girls look hot. It was easier to tutor Francis and, to a certain extent, Gilbert, because both of them were quite intelligent, but were too lazy or too busy chatting women up to consider something as mundane and dull as studies. Antonio, however, was a case in himself—he refused to talk about anything but tomatoes. Eliza's frying pan, however, changed all that.

Exams dragged on for too long and got over too soon, and as all of them sat there, biting their nails to stubs, Eliza decided to pin up a paper on the common board, and told people to write down what they wanted to be, so that two people didn't end up being the same thing. People who'd already decided what they wanted to be were quick to write down what they wanted, even though their marks weren't out.

Antonio, Francis and Gilbert went to the list, and blinked at all the varied options.

"Scooby doo," Gilbert read out. "They want to be a _dog_?"

"Ooh, Wonder Woman," Francis said.

"Nutcracker," Antonio pointed out. "What's that?"

"Oh, look, even the Powerpuff girls are taken," Alice said popping up from nowhere.

While Francis and Gilbert glared at her, Antonio popped up and asked, "What are you going to be, _señora_?"

"Oh, I'll think of something. But, if you're thinking of something, Tony, I think you'll make a smashing Zorro. What thinks you?"

Antonio grabbed the pen and scribbled Zorro on the list.

Alice looked at Gilbert. "You're really…do you eat properly?"

Gilbert scoffed. "Of course I do! I am the awesome"—

"Yes, yes, pish-tosh. I can see how scrawny you are. You would make a perfect Ichabod Crane, if it wasn't for your pale…" she gestured at his face and hair. Francis, the only one who got the reference, smirked and held back his laugh. Alice smiled slightly and said, "How about an Indian Prince? The Singhs could lend you their ancestral clothing if you're _extra nice_ to them."

"I shall be Prince of awesome Prussia!"

Alice shrugged, and turned to Francis. She grabbed his tie and dragged him close. "Personal request, luv—dress up as a Frenchman soldier, in all his livery and garb."

He made a show of being thoughtful. "I could, _mon cherie_. But what do I get in return?"

Alice leaned and whispered something in his ear that sent his blood racing hot and fast through his body. She leaned back, and both of them smirked knowingly. Alice turned, smiled at all of them, and said, "Tara." France held two fingers to his forehead and saluted them, before following Alice and gripping her bottom the way he had Gilbert's for the photograph, but with a lot of more squeeze.

Besides, Alice's bottom was much more pleasant.

* * *

"This is very _hot_. And I don't mean in the good way," Francis said, tugging at his itching collar. He'd finally managed to get his dad to let him wear it, and he wasn't very happy, shipping the ancestral heirloom over between Chicago and W City. Francis had to even sign a contract with his father, saying Francis would somehow find all the money to go to France and get the suit repaired if there was so much as a blotch on it. Still, Alice had promised him something extremely exquisite that would blow his mind away, so he stood there, in that itching dress, waiting for her so that he could at least remove the heavy coat.

Antonio was talking to his newest girlfriend, Anastasia Dickens. By Francis' own admission, she had the voice of a nightingale with the underlying strength of an elephant's trumpet. But he didn't really care for Anastasia, who'd dressed up as Scarlett O' Hara. He wanted his—

"_Bonjour,_ Francis."

Eliza. He turned, wanting to know where Alice was, but it died as soon as he saw Elizabeta dressed as the devil's mistress.

She was wearing a black corset with red highlights done tightly at the back that emphasised her figure and pushed her bust up. Her skirt was a deep, blood-red that was too short for even _impropriety_, and the black stockings she wore slid and clung over the length of her entire leg, disappearing behind her ankle high boots that pushed her firm rear out, barely hidden by the short piece of cloth she wore as a skirt.

"Stop staring!" she hissed, hitting his arm with a black, elbow length covered arm. He looked at the rest of her—her hip length cape that she'd fastened around her neck, the silver chain whose pendant slipped in between her breasts, those high heels, her brown hair braided with strings of silver and red and tossed over one shoulder—she was one hell of a bomb.

"E-Eliza?" Francis stuttered. Antonio turned, and whistled.

She turned her smoky eyes at him and punched him harder. "Stop drawing attention!" she whispered angrily. "I am going to _kill_ Alice."

Which reminded him. "Where is she?" Francis asked.

"Hello, French soldier."

He turned around, and found himself blinking at the end of a sword.

He could do nothing but stare at that unpainted mouth as it moved. "Now, I wonder, do I kill you in the name of Her Royal Majesty or…make you a slave on my ship?"

He looked at her unpatched, glittering emerald eye. "I would rather kill myself, _mon bon pirate_."

"Buccaneer," Alice corrected. "Either way, Alice Kirkland doesn't like Frenchmen."

Francis loved this side of his Alice, and decided to play along. "So, what will you do to this poor soldier whose _femme_ is waiting for him back home?"

As Alice thought, Francis took her in. She'd done her hair in a messy French braid—points for him—and tied a red band around her head. The eyepatch was over her right eye, the leather thong that held it in place hidden behind the band. The band was the same red as her long jacket, beneath which she wore a flowing peasant's shirt with a ruffled neckline that came till the waist coat she'd fastened with strings. She wore breeches that covered her till the thigh, the rest of her long legs hidden by her knee-high boots.

"Where did you get the outfit from, _mon ami_?" he asked.

She smiled a small smile, and put her sword into the scabbard she'd belted around her hip. "Like it?"

"Buccaneer?" he asked as she walked around to Eliza. "And she-devil?"

"Desdemona," Alice corrected. "Daughter of the Devil. And Buccaneer of Her Majesty the Queen."

"Who—Oh my God."

Alice laughed as Gilbert, Prussia embodied, had a good look at them. "Where did you get that from?" she asked.

"And don't speak of God before me," Eliza said, a thrill of awareness going through her as Gilbert continued to stare at her red lips. She leaned towards Alice's ear and whispered, "I'm going to go find Roderich."

Alice frowned, and turned to Eliza. "He's going to murder you if he sees you like this," she whispered. "Besides, you need to work your magic on the King of Prussia, send him hurtling to his doom and all that."

"I_ told_ you this was a bad idea," Eliza began, but Alice placed a hand on her lips, unaware that they were being watched. They both turned at Antonio's whistle, and tilted their heads.

"Watching two _femmes chaudes_ go so close to each other does things to my system," Francis whispered, but Alice caught him. "That's it. Today, I'm going to get the frenchman's goolies," she said, and drew her sword.

Francis leisurely removed his coat, handed it to Gilbert—ignoring his protests, of course—and snatched the foil Antonio had looped in his belt. "Not so fast, _mon cherie_," Francis drawled, spinning the foil in his wrist, circling with Alice. The circle around them grew wider and wider until they all everyone's space and attention.

"You are _not_ making me do this, you bleeding sod," Alice hissed.

He raised an eyebrow—he knew how much that aggravated her. "Not up for the challenge, eh, _mon ami_?"

She narrowed her eyes, and stopped. He looked at her, and his heart pumped faster as she leered at him. "Bring it, Frenchman."

His foil struck with a flash. Alice ducked, and took the second rapier from Antonio—her stage weapon would be broken in a second, and what was the point. Her foil clashed with Francis's, pushed his away, moved towards his shoulder. Francis stepped to his right, slapped her foil to the side—Alice growled to herself and held the handle tighter, cursing herself for being an idiot. She struck, then moved back before he could cut her in an arc. She dropped down, swooped the foil at his feet. He jumped, brought his foil down on hers. With a grunt she kicked him in the knee and got to her feet as he clutched at his.

"You know," she said, blowing her hair out of her eye, "if we're going to fight like this, these foils are going to break."

Francis looked around and whistled to Gilbert, who threw a single handed claymore sword. Francis caught it, and pointed the tip at Alice, who snarled at him.

"Surrender, pirate Alice," Francis said.

"It's buccaneer, and"—Eliza whistled to her—"you fight like a girl!" She caught the Italian double blade sword Eliza threw to her, and attacked Francis without prelude.

Both were quite blunt, so there was no harm of hurting the other. She swung at him, then whirled and hacked when Francis blocked the first one. He blocked the second one, and swung his sword down. Alice moved to the side, pressed his blade down with hers and gritted her teeth as he moved her sword with his and got out of the hold. Francis jumped on the table, and ended up putting his leg in the bowl of punch. He made a face, but a thought flashed through him like lightning. He quickly removed his foot from the bowl, and kicked it towards Alice.

Alice dodged, and luckily, the bowl was made of copper. But Alice wasn't able to get any grip on the wet floor thanks to her boots, and made a beeline to the chair.

People watched as the Fencing club's top members clashed and fought. Alice put one foot of the table, ducked and swung at Francis's legs.

"Stop aiming at my legs, Alice!" Francis yelled at her as he jumped.

"I want you on your knees, you bloody wanker!" she yelled back, and got on the table. With a flash she twirled her wrist and slid her blade through the space in his swept hilt, locking their swords. With a grunt she pulled it from his hand, flung it to the ground and slid her blade between them, pressing it at his throat.

"Checkmate," she whispered, unaware of the cheering and applause around them.

"_Mon cherie_, it's not over yet," Francis whispered, his throaty voice running like whiskey through her blood. Before she could blink, he tugged on the laces of her waistcoat, grabbed the ends and pulled her even closer, her thighs pressed against his, her chest against his hard torso, one edge of the blade now against her neck as well.

"This…is _un jeu dangereux_…a dangerous game that we're playing, isn't it, _cherie_?" Francis asked, his voice audible only to hers. They were so close…but any closer, and their necks would be cut.

"I wouldn't except anything less from a French soldier," she whispered. "But don't tell anyone I said that."

He chuckled. Oh God, damn this blade, she just wanted to…"Reputations?"

"Mine. My crew's. My ship's," she said, tilted her head slightly up.

"And I've got my country's"—

Alice snorted. "Your country's got a fantastic reputation that it needs to uphold, now, does it?"

"You just ruined the moment, _mon ami_."

"Is that so? I still want to kiss the hell out of you."

"_Je veux te baiser_. Really, really hard."

Alice stepped back, and so did he, breaking the moment and setting the hearts of the teachers there to rest. Francis jumped down, and held out his hand. "A true Frenchman always cares for a lady"—

"I'm a buccaneer"—

"I'm willing to make an exception."

Alice narrowed her eyes at his words, but saw nothing mischievous in his eyes, but that was because she was wearing an eyepatch. She slipped her hand into his, and shrieked when Francis turned and pulled her to him, catching her on his shoulder. He held her there firmly, his hands holding her in place.

He jumped back onto the table, ignoring Alice's screeches entirely. "Thank you all, for enjoying this performance of ours. We've worked our derrieres off, especially this one"—he patted Alice's round buttocks at that, grinning at their laughter—"so, we hoped you enjoyed it. Our lovely Elizabeta's been the scriptwriter, Antonio the director, Gilbert the props manager, and me and my lovely pirate have been your humble actors. _Merci, au revoir_ and _bonne nuit_!"

He leaped over the puddle of punch, and made a beeline for the nearest exit, ignoring Alice's yells of protest which turned to pleas. _Mon dieu_, her pleading tone did a number on his system. He moved towards the parking lot, walking to his car. He took out his keys, unlocked his car, and tossed her in, slamming the door as she yelled in pain. He got into the car, and drove as quickly as he could, trying his best to not allow her yelling and hitting to distract him.

He drove to a spot—their spot—stopped the car, and turned around.

"I hate you," Alice said, arms crossed, looking outside the window. He sighed, and moved to the back.

"I'm sorry," he said, but she just growled at that. "Alice"—

"I have a lot of pride, Francis," she said really softly, enough to interrupt him and make him listen. "And I have a lot of insecurities. What you did today…" she stopped, tried to control the pain growing in her throat, and continued softly. "That brought my insecurities out. But," she said, hearing him draw in a breath, "I can deal with that. I can deal with someone laying me bare before other people. It makes me a stronger person. But, Francis…you hurt my pride today, doing something like that."

Francis reached out to touch her, hold her, but he knew it wasn't going to be accepted, and it just seemed like the incorrect thing to do.

"I know I've hurt your pride many times," Alice said. "And you've always taken it with a pinch of salt. Like that thing with the Powerpuff girls"—

"_Mon ami_, it would be an injury to my ego. Besides, you thought I was quite hot."

Alice choked on what Francis imagined to be the lump in her throat. "You did. You still do."

"I'm sorry, _mon ami_. I got caught in the moment of things. I'm sorry."

Alice slowly turned towards him. "You know, you're one of those only guys who apologises to me," she said, tugging his arms around her. He held her, and drew her closer. "And I never apologise to you."

He drew her onto his lap until she was straddling him. "Well, that's why I'm awesome."

"Don't sound like Gilbert, for goodness' sake, when I'm praising you."

He chuckled, and his blue eyes grew tender and needy. "Kiss me, Alice. _Mon cherie, _kiss me."

Alice held his face in her hands, his stubble rubbing against the heels of her palms, and titled his head towards him. He reached out, and undid the red headband and her eyepatch, saying the first thing that came to his mind.

"Why did you keep such beautiful eyes hidden, Alice?"

"So that it could be only you who saw them."

"_Je suis heureux_. I'm glad."

Alice leaned down, and kissed him, pouring her heart into him, with only one thought in her mind.

_It's a dangerous game we play, but I still love you._

* * *

**A/T: LeHoff, I hope this is something like what you wanted, and maybe better. **

**If you guys liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	17. My Birthday Treat - My big sister Alice

**A/T: '**Dangerous Games**' went better than I thought, so I'm really happy. In the beginning, I went—Oh my freaking God, this is so boring—but then I got to do what I love to do best—writing fights. I was kinda debating on whether to put this in the MFN slot or put it elsewhere, 'cause I've wanted it to be separate, but…I don't know. That's where my best friend Radium comes in.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

**My Birthday Treat**

* * *

**Prompt: Peter and Lili sharing a moment**

* * *

**_For I'veMadeItMyOTP (Adei)_**

**Pairing(s): Sealand x Liechtenstein**

**_Because you have the craziest pairing ideas ever, and you never make me wait for reviews and PMs. If I sit and tell you all the reasons you're awesome, it's not going to fit in a line. Besides, you already know._**

* * *

My big sister Alice

"Thirsty?"

Lili looked up, and saw Peter holding out a bottle to her. She nodded, and took it from him. "Thank you."

"Mind if I sit down next to you?"

"I don't mind."

Peter set down the bottle carrier and sat down next to her. He pulled out a chocolate bar from his pocket, unwrapped it, snapped it in two and handed one to Lili. She blinked, and then accepted it with a soft 'Thank you.'

They sat there, eating the chocolate in silence. Peter watched as his father gave the players hell, while Lili thought of something to get the conversation started.

"Mr. Kirkland…"

Peter blinked and turned to her. "You can call me Peter, you know. Besides, aren't you bored?"

Lili chewed on the side of her lower lip before answering. "It doesn't matter. I don't get to spend a lot of time with my brother—he's very busy working. I can spend time with him here. It's alright." She turned to him. "Aren't you going to practice today?"

"Aah…no. I, umm, have a bit of a problem with…my foot," Peter said, wondering whether he should tell her about it or not. Lili saw the conflict on his face, and he saw the curiosity on her face. He went back to looking at Tino yell the hockey players around, thinking about what he wanted to do. He _wanted_ to tell her, but…only a few people knew about his 'condition'. His family knew—both his blood family and his adopted family. Nobody else knew about it, because Alice had clearly explained it to him—"Only tell a person when you trust them, but don't accept any pity from anybody. There's nothing wrong with you. You're different from others, and even if there is something wrong with you, it's to do with your head than your leg. Understand?"

He'd nodded then, but he wondered whether he could trust Lili with something like that or not. He knew she wouldn't tell anyone, but he didn't want her to pity him. He didn't want that from anyone.

Thankfully, Lili herself changed the subject. "Where did you get this from?" she asked Peter.

He turned to her, and looked at the melting bar of chocolate in his hands. "My sister gave it to me." He popped the chocolate into his mouth, savoured the thick coat it made on his tongue as it melted. Yum. He swallowed the chocolate, and licked his fingers clean.

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah. Matthew's mother. Alice. It's a long story."

"Would you like to tell me?"

He shrugged. "I don't mind. But let's wash our hands first."

She nodded, and the two of them got up. As they started walking, Peter talked. "You see, my grandparents gave birth to girls—even my sister Alice doesn't know, but she thinks the number comes to nine. Most of them moved away to places like India and Australia and Ireland and all that, but my mother stayed with my grandparents throughout her life, even when she got married. She'd promised them, you see.

"My sister was born really early, when my mother was probably eighteen, and I was born very late in her life. My mother's, not Alice's. She had four children in between, but two of them were stillborn, one was miscarried and the one before me passed away due to pneumonia. I was an accident, but when I was born, I…" He didn't know why, but he didn't want to tell her what was wrong with _him_. "Well, my parents were quite old, and my mother was really weak. Here we are."

Peter pushed the door open, and both of them moved to the wash basins and washed their hands.

"My mother wasn't in very strong health, and she passed away before I became three. My sister Alice was coping with her own problems, and she only got to know around four months later. But by then one of my aunts had given me away to Tino and Berwald. They'd gotten married, and they wanted to start a family."

"That's…" Lili trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Peter just smiled. "When Alice got to know, she was _furious_. She broke off all ties with our aunts from England—one was living in Scotland and the other was in Wales—and went to get me back. But when she saw how much Tino and Berwald loved me, well…she let me be. She keeps checking on me, and she calls me at least ten times a week."

"It must've been tough on her," Lili said.

Peter shrugged. "It was. There was something with her married family, and then this became a problem just after solving that. But she's really cool, you know. And super strong, too."

Lili smiled knowingly. She knew just how strong elder siblings could be—her brother was a prime example.

Peter looked at her. She looked so _sweet_ when she smiled…"L-Listen," he started, hating himself for stuttering. She looked at him.

"If you don't mind…can we go and buy ice-cream? It's really hot, and I know this ace guy who makes the best ice-creams."

Lili grinned. She _loved_ ice-creams. "Sure."

"I'll go and tell dad and come," Peter said. "Do you want to tell your brother?"

"He has given me a mobile phone—I'll wait for you at the entrance."

He nodded, and ran towards the rink. Lili saw the limp in his step—there _was_ something bothering his foot.

She'd always thought of Peter to be aloof—she didn't know why. But, now that she thought about it, maybe he thought the same of her, too—she really hadn't started conversation with him, really. But he was really interesting, too. And there was that thing about his foot…Lili was curious about him. Peter, as far as she knew, was the best player there. Her own brother had said that. But he never played other than in W City—it was probably because of his foot. She knew he was a lot of fun to be with—the few people she talked to, like Matt and Ivan and Honda—said that. And he made amazing blueberry jam. _That_ she knew first hand. Yummy.

She just wanted to know so much more about him—and he could see right through her. She _had_ been bored, but…

Well, now she could talk to Peter.

* * *

**A/T: Peter, my good lad, you have just been ****_friendzoned_****. I feel bad for you. But, don't worry—in MFN at least, you're still taller than Lili.**

**I hope this explains a bit to you guys about why Peter's moved from one family to the other. I'm still debating what to do—but I'm on a bit of a writing spree right now, so…yeah, it's all coming out. If you guys think I should put it up separately, I'll do that, too—which will mean I get to take it off MFN and give it its own space.**

**If you didn't like it, Adei, let me know—I'll be more than happy to rewrite it.**

**Open to requests till June 5****th****, people!**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris. **


	18. My Birthday Treat - Dinner at Herdervary

**A/T: I am on a ROLL, people…I swear to God I am. I've never written so much in a ****_day_****. Well, I'm about to write a lot more.**

**Not really happy with the previous chapter…any ideas on how to change it? **

**Well, something's telling me I'm going to mess this chapter up, too, so I'll write it after I take my dog jogging.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

**My Birthday Treat**

* * *

**Prompt—Liechtenstein x Italy**

* * *

**_For Dark Void Princess 21 (DV)_**

**Pairing(s): Lily x Feliciano**

**_You review my stuff religiously, and reply to my PMs even when you have a cold. I adore you for so many more reasons, but it's not going to fit in a line, so…don't kill me if this doesn't go well. And all the best for your exams!_**

* * *

Dinner at Hérdervary's

Lili took one sip of the Húsleves soup, and was in heaven.

Even though it was piping hot, Lili popped a piece of chicken into her mouth, and blew it in her mouth, trying to cool it down. It tasted _so_ good…She turned to Elizabeta, and grinned as she swallowed. "This is really good!" she exclaimed.

Elizabeta smiled at the pleasant surprise of seeing the shy girl react so happily. "I'm glad you like it." She glared at the other regular diners at her dinner table. "Why can't you idiots compliment me once in a while?"

"I eat this every day," Gilbert complained, and got hit on the head.

Lovino smirked, and ate his soup. Next to him, Antonio sighed and turned to Basch. "How is W City for you?"

As Basch spoke to Antonio, a foot hit Lili's leg, and she jumped up straight. Basch looked at her, curious, but she shook her head and went back to drinking her soup.

There. Again. Not so hard this time, but still. And another. What was going on?

The next time, she was ready—she trapped the foot between her legs, and pulled hard.

Feliciano fell down, and everyone stared at him. Lili managed to keep herself from laughing out loud and standing over him and saying, "Serves you right!" because that would give her brother a heart attack and he'd end up pulling out his gun and shooting all around Feliciano—not that he didn't have a good aim, but he didn't like killing people at the dinner table.

She looked shocked enough as Lovino helped Feliciano into his seat, and when no one was looking, gave him a tiny smug smile, followed by a quizzical one.

"I need your help," he whispered. "After dinner."

She smiled, confused, but continued to eat and enjoy Elizabeta's cooking, as well as the lively conversation that seemed to be flowing at the table.

Gilbert and Ludwig had invited Basch and Lili over for dinner, but even though Ludwig could cook very well, he didn't know the nuances of hospitality. Gilbert turned to Eliza, who told Gilbert and Ludwig to invite them over to her place, since she fed them anyways. Feliciano and Lovino lived with her, and Antonio got to know through Lovino about the dinner, so he came along as well, forming their motely little group. Basch didn't know what to say in the beginning, but Eliza won him over, and there they were.

"You know, Eliza's going to be a teacher!" Gilbert said proudly. "How awesome is that?"

Lili was used to watching people converse, and she watched both Eliza and Gilbert, gauging their reactions. Gilbert looked at her proudly and…sadly? That was sadness in his eyes. Why was he sad? No, it wasn't only sadness. It was…

"He loves her," Feliciano whispered to her, and she blinked at him. "Eliza…she liked someone else a long time ago. He's loved her all this time, but he doesn't know what to do about it. So he keeps quiet."

Lili stared at him, then turned to Gilbert. Yes, that was love.

Was love really that sad of an emotion?

It was either the weather or her, but Lili ate a _lot_. She drank her soup, ate two servings of the Székelygulyás and had two pieces of the Rigó Jancsi, washing it all down with a glass of wine. Full till the brim, she walked slowly behind Feliciano to his room. She stepped over the pile of clothes, around the bottles of wine and tried not to take notice of all the condoms spread over the tableside.

"It's for Valentine's Day," Feliciano said, apparently not noticing the condoms there as well.

She tilted her head in curiosity. "I see."

"I want to make a card. Can you help me?"

Well, she didn't have much to do anyways. "Okay."

"Ve~!" Feliciano flung herself at her and hugged her tight. He let go of her and dragged out a huge box from underneath the bed, while Lili just blinked in surprise. Even her own brother didn't throw himself at her for hugs.

Hugs felt really good, though.

"Pink sparkles?" she squeaked as he opened the box. It was _full_ of decorative items—sparkles, sequins, fluff, stickers, ribbon-tapes—and they were in so many different colours. But the most prominent one was _pink_.

Feliciano frowned unhappily. "Not good?"

"Let's do blue. You can paint, right?"

"I'm a professional painter!" Feliciano said somewhat proudly, sad that Lili had rejected the pink sparkles.

"Why not paint him a picture that…tells you whatever you've always wanted to tell him?" she asked. "But let's do the cover first."

Feliciano spread a sheet on the ground, and put the card and the paints and the brushes on the ground. He went to fill the mug with water, and Lili began painting, the idea slowly forming in her mind. Her strokes grew faster, and when Feliciano came back, she was fully engrossed in the painting, so he just sat opposite her and watched her. Finally, when she was done, she looked up, and saw Feliciano looking at her. Startled, she blinked. "Umm…"

"You're a very cute girl, Lili," he said rather happily.

She blushed a deep red, and remembered when someone else had called her really cute.

"Lili!"

"That's my brother," Lili said, getting up. "I'll come back tomorrow, okay?" she promised.

Feliciano nodded, and pulled Lili into a hug, kissing both her cheeks even as her internal temperature rose above a hundred degrees. _Too hot, too close, too hot, too close…_

"_Grazie_, Lili!" Feliciano said, letting go of the thoroughly red girl. "Let me walk you downstairs."

Lili shook her head and tried to bring herself to normality as she walked towards the main door.

Italian men were scary.

* * *

**A/T: I woke up really early today, so I thought I would finish this before the Canadian Sunday was up. Hope you like it, DV!**

**If you guys liked it even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	19. My Birthday Treat - Russian Music

**A/T: I gained back the two kilos I lost in Manipal…T-T…from now on, I shall abstain from eating snacks! **

**Monsoon has arrived…I swear, it's colder here than it is in winter. DV, yay! Actually, Lovino wouldn't try to so much as stammer to Lili when Basch is around…big bros are scary. **

**I remembered I haven't really written 'aru' for a very long time…I miss Chun-Yan! :( So, thank you LeHoff, for requesting for an IvanxChun-Yan!**

**You know, I can't write drabbles…for me, everything needs an ending. But this is lots of fun! ^^**

* * *

**My Birthday Treat**

* * *

**Prompt: Drunk Ivan/Chun-Yan**

* * *

**_For Turtlehoffman2251 (LeHoff)_**

**Pairing(s): Ivan x Chun-Yan**

**_I'm wondering what your reaction's going to be when you read this…because you're awesome. ^^_**

* * *

Russian music

Chun-Yan smashed the garlic piece with the flat end of her blade, brushed it aside, and began chopping the beetroot into thin slices. She tossed all the vegetables in a wok, and worked her magic over the fire.

She didn't know when, but she suddenly grew aware of the onyx eyes burning into her back. It was hotter than the fire that rose from her wok. She threw in some spinach, and moved the wok over the fire, but he was _distracting_ her. And she didn't appreciate it.

She tossed the rice noodles in, and yelled, "York! Take this over, aru!"

Subhadra York placed the readied plates on the counter, and moved to Chun-Yan. The wok easily changed hands, and Chun-Yan decided to take care of her problem.

She walked to the back door of the kitchen, and went out. She switched on the light, and gasped softly. Ivan was sitting there, slumped against the wall, head hanging. She hurried to him and began shaking him gently, and then not so gently. "Braginsky. Braginsky! Ivan! Are you alright, aru? Ivan! I"—

He grabbed her hand, and pulled her sideways, hugging her to him. Chun-Yan tried to pull away, but he didn't relent. With a sigh, she repositioned herself and sat down on top of him, legs on either side. Ivan moved back and straightened, resting his head on her shoulder.

"Tired…" he wheezed out.

"You stink, aru," Chun-Yan whispered.

"Got back…from practice…"

"You're acting like a little kid, aru."

"I…_ya dumal no tebe_."

Chun-Yan sighed softly, and buried her face in his neck. He always slipped into Russian whenever he was tired, the words running off his tongue like a soft and slow song which she didn't follow. He just kept speaking, and she didn't bother stopping him. She placed a soft kiss on his neck, tasting the salt on his skin. It used to gross her out before; now she didn't mind.

He whispered the details of his day to her in Russian while she worked out the knots in his back using her fingers. She pressed another kiss on his neck, and ran her fingers in lazy circles on his back.

"_Ya tak tebya lyublyu_. _Tak tebya lyublyu._"

He always whispered that, too. That was the one phrase she recognized all the time. He would whisper it in her ears when he thought she was sleeping, he would whisper it to her when he was tired, he would whisper it when she was cooking and he hugged her from behind. He always said that. _Tak tebya lyublyu._

She closed her eyes, and listened to him speak to her in Russian. His voice gave her the kind of rest even sleep didn't give her. She could listen to him speak for hours and she wouldn't get tired of his voice—he didn't speak then like he usually would. He'd just…it was magic.

"Chun-Yan."

"Hmm."

"You smell of oranges."

"I washed my hair today, aru."

He loved playing with her hair—she never got to know why, but if it made him happy, she didn't mind.

"That scent is enough to make me drunk."

Chun-Yan laughed softly, and snuggled closer. Until the stench of his sweat got unbearable, she decided to remain in his embrace, listening to him speak in a language that was music to her ears.

* * *

**A/N: Google translate the Russian, people…you'll understand what he's been saying for a ****_very long time_**** now.**

**First time I'm writing something under 1000 words…yay!**

**I know this isn't what you asked for, LeHoff, but I hope you like it.**

**If you enjoyed this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	20. My Birthday Treat - Screwy Emotions

**A/T: I woke up really early today…and this is something that played in my head for a while.**

**So, this one's for me.**

* * *

**My Birthday Treat**

* * *

**Prompt: Dream**

* * *

**_For me._**

**Pairing(s): GilbertxElizabeta**

**_'Cause a girl needs to indulge herself on her birthday._**

* * *

Screwy emotions

Gilbert didn't like this reversal of roles. It scared him when his second boyfriend suddenly wanted to be on the top, and it scared him when his teacher wanted him to take class. It also scared him when his third girlfriend wanted to do him, although that was quite pleasant…But he didn't have time to reminisce about how his third girlfriend fucked his brains out.

Before Eliza could drop unconscious at his front door, he caught her, and grunted at the unexpected weight. "You've grown heavy," he managed to grunt, then dragged her up properly, scrunching his nose at the pungent smell of whiskey that seemed to be emanating from her. With a heave-ho, he picked her up like a small child, and kicked the door closed. He pushed her up to a more comfortable position, locked the door, and walked to his bedroom. He lay her down on the bed, and removed her boots, jacket, and jewellery, undid her coiffure and put everything on the side table. He pulled the sheets over her, then went to the bathroom to start a bath.

Standing in front of the mirror as the water filled the bathtub, he rubbed his face. He could admit it to himself—it was quite scary, this…thing. He always staggered off to Eliza's whenever he was drunk—she was usually the cause, but he just couldn't stop being with her.

Love was one fucked up emotion.

Surprisingly, the only one who knew was Eliza's best friend, Alice—he didn't even tell his own best buds. And she told him to keep his mouth shut and be there for her, or tell her and make her feel bad that she liked someone else.

_Mein Gott_…he walked back out, and found her awake. Although it scared him, this wasn't the first time she'd dropped drunk in front of his house, so he knew the drill. She got up, sat on the side of the bed, head in her hands. He moved in front of her, reached back, and unzipped her dress zipper.

"Get up," he whispered, and she rose, leaning into him for support. He slipped the dress off her, let it drop on the floor. He picked her up again, and this time, Eliza locked her ankles behind him.

"He's leaving."

He held her closer to him. He knew what she was talking about.

"That _seggfej_ leaving. Tomorrow morning."

He lowered her, but she refused to let go of him. "Today was break-up day." She laughed harshly. "And that…bastard…didn't say…" Her laughter turned to crying, and he closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks and she sobbed and wept.

There were many days he'd felt like killing him, but that day was the first when he'd felt like breaking each and every single finger on Roderich Edelstien's hands, for breaking the heart of the woman he loved most.

Love was one fucked up emotion.

* * *

Eliza pushed the door open slowly with her foot, and peeked inside.

Still asleep.

With a small smile, she came in, and eased the door gently shut with her leg. She walked to the chair nearest to the cupboard, and set the washed and folded clothes on it. She quietly opened the cupboard, and began arranging all the folded clothes in it.

_Yesterday was…_Eliza felt her face take on horror, even though she was still smiling…_too much. Plus, Gilbert and too many drinks don't go together._

Gilbert could drink quite a bit without either retching or fainting, but Ivan…Ivan had been a bit too much the day before, putting vodka in the cans. She didn't know how he did it—how that was possible—but there had been vodka in everyone's drinks.

_Teacher, huh_? She thought, recalling Gilbert's lecture to her on what she _must_ do. The man was old fashioned for the weirdest of things. It was quite funny, actually. She didn't drink much—she'd chugged enough during her younger days to care for her liver now. Besides, he drank—

The clock fell to the ground, and she jumped a foot in the air. She spun, and saw him lashing about.

She quickly put the clothes in the cupboard, closed it, and hurried over to his side. Nightmares often occurred in his sleep, but it had been _years_ after he'd stopped being a professional ice hockey player. Still, it came up once in a while, and…

He was breathing really hard, face full of pain, as if he'd been running a mile a minute. His hands fisted, bunched the bedsheets under them. Alarmed, she placed her palm on his face, and could do nothing but brush those tears aside as they rolled down his cheek.

He jolted awake without any warning, startling her. He just stared at her with those red eyes, filled with pain and suffering and…

"Eliza," he breathed out, and before she could inhale, he was suddenly on top of her. The anger that rose out of the fear of the sudden movement died as his tears continued to fall on her cheeks, and she watched as he ran his hands over her face, her arms, as if checking if she was still there.

"Eliza."

"Gilbert, I'm f"—

He leaned down and kissed her, and kissed her again and again. She put a palm on his chest to push him away; she pulled him closer. She pressed a hand at his chin to break the kiss; she titled his head and slid her tongue in.

The tears moistened her cheeks, and her thumbs slid as she held onto his head, his tongue filling her mouth, his gasps of air the only sound she could hear. She felt so _hot_…he was kissing her as if his life depended on it, as if she would disappear within another second if he let go of her. His fingertips were pressing down on her face, his scent was intoxicating her. She bit his lip, he bit her tongue. She wanted him closer, she wanted him more, she wanted everything and more.

His tongue slipped out of her mouth, and she just felt so…empty. She opened her eyes; her vision was hazy, but she could see that the desperation had left his eyes. But he'd awakened another one within her.

"_Azt akarom, hogy_." The words slipped out of her tongue before she could stop them. _Come back…I want you. I want you._

Was that…he wasn't serious. He wasn't serious. He'd just ravaged her mouth like it was the last day they had, and now he was denying her?

Reason began speaking to her, but with a groan she threw herself at him, taking all that she needed, taking all he had to give.

She knew what was in her heart. She knew what she wanted. But she didn't know if he would give it to her. Her eyes stung as they kissed, but she couldn't let the tears fall.

Love was one fucked up emotion.

* * *

**A/T: I've wanted to write this for ****_so long_****…and I've finally done it.**

**And, Adei, you're going to get your wish come true soon, so thank Jani for it.**

**If you liked this even a little bit, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	21. My Birthday Treat - Mosaics

**A/T: Finally! I can FINALLY write something for Jani! **

**Adei, the MattxNat you've been waiting for has finally arrived.**

* * *

**My Birthday Treat**

* * *

**Prompt: Little scenes from Matt and Nat's childhood.**

* * *

**_For Cyjanidybel (Jani)_**

**Pairing(s): Matthew x Natalia (Chibi)**

**_You gave MFN a cover pic, you give me super-long reviews, and you fill me with humility—need I more reasons? And I love your smileys, too! ^^_**

* * *

Mosaics

_-First sleepover-_

"N-N-Nat!"

Nat kicked Matt in his stomach. "Shut up. I'm sleeping."

Matt mewled and clung onto her hair. He always did that whenever he was scared. "Nat, please…"

Nat growled. "_Net_."

"Bathroom…"

"Go yourself."

"Scared…"

She turned around, and yelped when Matt's hands got trapped under her back. Matt let go of her hair, and she faced him. "You have to pee?"

He nodded quickly.

"Now."

He nodded even quicker.

Nat flung the quilt off her, and moved to the other side of the bed. "Stay here. I'll check for scary things." She walked to the bathroom quite confidently, not knowing anything that could possibly be scarier than Big Brother Ivan. She reached up, switched on the light, and opened the door. "Come on. Nothing there."

He dashed to the bathroom, and Nat closed the door, standing guard. She knew he could see her shadow from the bathroom—she hadn't closed the door the whole way—and that would reassure him. She heard him pee, then flush and finally wash his hands. She pushed the door open, and blinked when he walked up to her and gave her a hug.

He was a really small child—Nat knew from having raised three little boys herself. "Your hands are wet."

"Thank you."

"You'll get cooties."

"You're my best friend."

Out-argued, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her.

He was her best friend, too.

* * *

-_First project-_

Nat rang the doorbell. It sounded funny. She stepped back and looked at the big house. It was _big_. Very, very _big_. What was that word Matt had used? Ginormous.

"Coming!"

The door opened, and a blond, bearded man stood there, wearing an apron.

Nat remembered what _sestra_ had told her. "_Privet_. I am Natalia Arlovskaya. Pleased to meet you."

Francis blinked at those serious eyes…what shade of blue where they? "_Bonjour_, Natalia. I am papa Francis. Come in, please."

She nodded, and entered, not quite able to hide the surprise from her face at how rich the house looked. It was all golden and yellow and cream—it was so bright…

"Nat!"

She frowned at Matt, and frowned even more when he began grinning at her. He suited this house—all golden and yellow and cream—and the combination was blinding her.

"Stop grinning, or I'll hit you, _mal'chik_," Nat warned, but Matt was used to her threats, and he grinned even more.

"Welcome!" he said, and took the bag from her before she could say anything. She was going to kill him, but he knew she wouldn't do it in his own house. "Papa, this is Nat. Nat, this is my papa."

"_Spasibo_. I like your food very much."

She said it so seriously Francis was at a loss for words. "I'll go make snacks…Matthew, you have a project you need to do, no?"

"_Oui_. Nat, come on!"

Francis watched as his son dragged the growling tigress into the den.

What was going to happen to his son?

-x-

"You aren't doing this right," Matt said.

"Leave me alone."

"But, Nat"—

"Leave me alone_, chert voz'mi_!"

Matt pulled back, and Nat watched as the enthusiasm fell away from his eyes. That's why she didn't like having friends—it meant taking care not to hurt people's feelings. Why didn't Matt understand that she hated having people tell her what to do? She looked down at the paper cutting she'd made, and looked at the one he'd prepared. His looked better than hers. It made her even angrier. He was better at everything. It wasn't fair.

With a growl she pushed the paper cutting towards him. He looked up at her with watery eyes. She sneered. "You are _plaksa. _You cry for everything."

"I-I'm not c-crying"—

Nat snorted, but didn't say anything. Finally, she said, "Show me how to cut that."

Matt didn't saying anything, either. He didn't boast or brag or make fun. He just picked it up and began cutting it slowly, knowing it was easier for Nat to see rather than be told how to do.

He was so considerate…It just made her want to hurt him. But Matt was different; he couldn't be hurt by anyone.

Hurting Matthew Williams only meant hurting herself.

* * *

-_Nat's first rescue_-

The little black ball was growing bigger and bigger. The shard of pain was growing in the centre of his bones. They were moving through his muscles, cutting towards his heart. The pain was filling his senses. His throat hurt. His ears hurt. His eyes stung. He drew the lunchbox closer to him. It was for Nat. He wasn't going to give it to them. They didn't deserve papa's food. They didn't help papa do the dishes. They didn't help mama fold the laundry. Matt closed his eyes tighter. He saw himself curling into a tiny ball. He wanted to fight all of them. He couldn't do that. He wanted to hit all of them. It was wrong. They were—

"Get away from him, _tupitsa._"

"It's Batty Natty."

"Rescuing Ratty Matty."

"Batty and Ratty!"

Their laughter hurt his ears even more. He couldn't…it just…

"Matt."

His eyes flew open at her soft, harsh, accented voice.

"You can't look out for me with your eyes closed, comrade."

He looked at her. She was…smiling…at him…

"Get her!"

That smile stayed, but her eyes turned blank as she turned towards them. She was used to this. She did this all the time.

Natalia Arlovskaya loved this.

-x-

"Nat!"

"Don't scream." Nat got to her feet, rubbed her thumb over her bleeding lip. "_Chert_," she muttered, and turned to Matt. "I'm not badly hurt."

"Your cheek…"

"You will not cry. I shall call you names. Bad names." She saw the lunchbox in his hand. "Is that for me?"

He nodded.

She took his hand, and led him away from the fallen bullies. They considered themselves the rulers of the playground, but Nat could bring down the dons of the street. His hand was so cold…he must've been really scared. She held his hand tighter. "You didn't give them the lunchbox."

"P-Papa made it for you…not them…"

Nat found herself smiling. Her best friend was weird. "Matt."

"Yes."

"You are brave."

* * *

-_Matt's first rescue_-

Nat resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard this lecture so many times she could say it along with them. But this was different.

They had called his parents, and Big Brother Ivan.

Something purplish-blackish-red was growing behind her—that was the colour of Big Brother Ivan's…aura. She couldn't feel it on her, but the pressure was on her mind, holding her back, keeping her quiet, with her head bowed down. She couldn't even curl her hands into fists—Big Brother Ivan would see it. And if there was anyone as similar to Big Brother Ivan in hiding emotions from the keenest eyes, it was Nat. And she wasn't going to do anything stupid.

She sneaked a glance at the parents. But they, it seemed, were ready to.

She looked at the boy. That satisfying crack she felt more than heard was his nose. She broke one cheekbone, and cracked his chin—the entire area around and below one half of his mouth was swollen. He kept moaning—he couldn't speak. She wanted to break his jaw, too, but her knuckles had begun bleeding profusely.

"You stupid girl! How dare you hurt my son?" his mother yelled. She kept her eyes down to hide the lack of regret she felt. "Look at me, dammit"—

"Elise"—

"Shut up, Henry! She can't hurt my baby like that and—you look at me right now, missy"-

She sensed Big Brother Ivan shift, and her blood turned into ice. A chill shook through her. She—

The door flew open. "He did it!"

Nat spun around, and her blood left her entire system. _Go away…_ukhodi_…_chert by tebya pobral, _go away!_

"Who're you?"

Matt marched to the principal's table, his too-long hair falling over his glasses, and looked up. "He hit her first!"

"Matt"—

"Tell them, Nat! He threw my books in the playground that day, a-and you told h-him to stop, but he didn't listen. Nat! Tell them!"

Nat blinked at Matt. Why was he so upset?

"He k-kept tripping you, and stealing your stuff, and"—

"My son would never do that!"

"He did it!"

Nat sensed by instinct what was going to happen, and threw herself at Matt, knocking them both down. Her split knees sent bolts of pain right to her brain, shocking her, but both of them missed the swinging open-palmed slap.

"I understand…"

She heard his voice through the pain, but the pain was greater than her fear for Big Brother Ivan. "I understand that your son has been injured, but this is clearly a case of retaliation to his bullying."

Ivan looked from his bleeding sister being cared for that slip of a boy, to the fat woman's red face. "Your failures in parenting is not my business, but," he said, over the gasp of the woman, "if that blow had so much as connected, with either my little sister or the boy, then rest assured, madam, that I wouldn't fail as her sibling and guardian."

With a smile that could freeze Dante's Hell over, he took one last look at his sister, and left, chuckling at what the little boy had done.

That_ malen'kiy_ _mal'chik_ had rescued his sister.

* * *

-_Matt's first crush_-

Nat didn't know what to do. So she started laughing.

Matt glared at her, and that made her laugh even more. And Matt's endearing blush made her clutch her sides and laugh so hard she began gasping for air.

"D-Don't laugh!"

Nat began groaning at the stitches in her side, still laughing. She straightened, still shaking with laughter, and turned to Matt. He was still blushing, but she knew he'd be truly mad if she laughed anymore. Still, restrained laughter wasn't good for her health, so she held a hand to her mouth, shaking suddenly with mirth that seemed to hit her at odd times.

"Y-You like Tanya? Our class Tanya?"

He nodded. "Don't make me say it again."

Oh, she was enjoying herself. "Why? You like her."

"Nat!"

She had the gall to look surprised. "What? You do like her. Hmm. Tanya. Does she even know your name? Do you know what she likes, who her friends are, when's her birthday? Wait, are you serious about this?"

"Fine, make fun of me." He turned around huffily.

Nat shook her head, and sat behind Matt. "You can talk to me."

"You just make fun of me."

"It _is_ funny, Matt. Besides, I get to tease you."

"I'm not talking to you."

She sighed. He was such a baby at times. "Fine. Sorry."

He wasn't appeased, and folded his arms even tighter.

"I'll help you get a score."

He snorted. He did it only with her, and it clearly showed his lack of belief in her word.

She sighed. Matt held the weirdest things against her, but she didn't want him to think she wasn't being supportive. Besides, she could tease him about it once the crush had run its course. She hugged him from behind, locking her hands in front. "_Izvinite. Prostish' menya_?"

He let out a loud harrumph, and Nat held back a smirk.

Best friends could be such a tease.

* * *

_-Noticing changes_ _in themselves_-

Nat moved her hands underneath her breasts, and held them in her hands. Big. She looked at them in the mirror. She didn't even know when her chest had filled up—it just had. As if overnight. She needed a bra now.

She pulled on a shirt, and her hardened nipples showed through. She rolled her eyes. Great. Now she had another thing to worry about.

As she when to Katyusha's room, she thought, _So, no more sleepovers_?

-x-

"Al."

"Hmm."

"I need a razor."

Al dropped the console and looked at Matt. "A razor."

Matt nodded.

Al jumped to his feet in record time, and ran out of the room. "Oh my freaking god, mom, Matt's going to commit suicide! Maaaaaaaaaam! Where the hell are you—my brother's going to kill himself!"

Matt groaned and threw himself back on the sofa. All he wanted to do was shave.

-x-

"Nat!"

"Do you bleach your teeth, _durak_? They're blinding me."

"Nat, mama agreed for a sleepover."

"Matt, do you see something different about me?"

Matt blinked. "What happened?"

"No, just look at me and tell me."

He gave her a cursory glance, and frowned. "You're still Nat."

Nat groaned and put her hands in her head. Matt pulled a chair next to hers, looked to see if anyone was overhearing their conversation, and moved in to whisper conspiratorially, "Nat, are you having your periods?"

Head still in hands, Nat sighed. "I don't know how to tell you this, but…no more sleepovers."

"Na-at! Why not?"

"Because I have boobs now. Let's go eat lunch."

* * *

-_Noticing changes in each other_-

"Let's Par-tay!"

Nat turned from the clear blue water to mama Alice, who was pulling out her swimming suit. "Mama Alice, are you going to swim?"

Alice grinned. "Who do you think taught my sons to swim? My beanpole husband? Plus, it's rare that I get to show off my bo-day. You got your swimsuit, love?"

Nat nodded, and picked up her bag. She turned to her brothers, who had worn their swimming trunks underneath their clothes. "Keep your bags in one place!" she yelled, and followed mama Alice to the changing rooms.

To save time, both Alice and Nat took the same changing room—Alice didn't mind as long as it was Nat, and Nat really didn't care. Nat pulled on her one piece swimsuit which had no sleeves, a skirt that covered her bum decently and tights that covered her till her mid thighs. She _had_ got herself a two piece and a much showy one piece, but Kat had discovered the two piece and Nat had to watch as the entire family burned it gleefully, even doing a little dance around the blazing bikini. Nat carefully hid the one piece, only to be taken out when she was at least eighteen.

Remembering her sister's advice, she put on a vest with spaghetti straps that she used to wear years ago; now it just about decently covered her breasts. Since she was wearing the swimsuit underneath, she didn't really bother.

She folded her clothes and put them in. "Mama Alice, I'm done."

"Yes, me too. Shall we go?"

"Hmm."

Alice opened the door, and Nat saw the red bikini that she wore. It should've been a two piece for the amount it covered, but if it wasn't for the criss-crossing strips on both her stomach and her back, it would've been a two piece. Nat admired Alice's toned body, and looked at the weight she'd gained on her stomach and back, thanks to puberty. And thighs. When she was as old as mama Alice, _she_ wanted a body that awesome, too.

Alice pulled out a sarong and tied it around her hips. "You want a sarong, Nat?"

Nat held the ends of her skirt. "I have this."

Alice laughed. "You look so cute, you know that?" Without warning, she leaned down and kissed Nat on both cheeks. "Let's go!"

Blushing, Nat followed Alice to where they had left the rest of them. Francis was sitting under the umbrella, watching as Nat's brothers and Matt were playing.

"Isn't Al going to come?" Alice asked, sitting down next to him.

"His coach is making him do overtime," Francis said. "You look cute, Nat."

"She does, right? That's what I said," Alice told him, and turned to Nat. "You go on and play, darling. I'll spend some quality time with my husband here. If you need a girl partner, let me know."

Nat nodded. Mama Alice was a _lot_ of fun to be with when she put her mind to it. "See you." Even as she turned, the smooching session behind her had started. Making a face, she ran to where the boys were playing. Matt was the only one without his back to her; she pressed a finger on her lips, gesturing him to be quiet, and ran towards Ravis, scooping him up in her arms and spinning him around. Ravis screamed in delight, and laughed as Nat sat him on his shoulders. "Again!"

Little kids…She turned to Matt. "Thanks, Matt…" She found herself invariably staring at his torso. His shoulders were broader. His chest, too. His arms had a dusting of hair on them, invisible due to their colour and his skin tone. His neck was thicker, too.

When had Matt gone super saiyan on her?

Matt laughed. "You're sneaky."

Nat regained her wits, and snorted. "I'm cleaver. And…Matt?"

"Yeah."

"Stop staring at my boobs."

Matt's eyes shot up, and he blushed. "I wasn't staring."

"I'm not going to bother. But you don't have to lie about it."

"You'll kill me if I was."

"You were. And you aren't dead. Yet."

Matt groaned, and ran a hand through his hair. "Do you want to swim?"

Nat set Ravis down, and told him to stay on the shallow side. "Yes. And you were staring."

Without another word, Matt dived into the water, and heard her follow him.

Girls were so hard to talk to.

* * *

-_Talks with mama Alice_-

"Mama Alice?"

"Yes, love."

"Some boy tried to kiss me today."

"Was he cute?"

"He was. Until I punched him in the face."

Alice snickered, and turned to Nat. "Give me a high five."

Nat happily obliged.

-x-

"Mama."

"Son."

"I have a crush on this girl."

"Do I know her?"

"She was…"

"Speak up, lad, I can't hear you."

"Nothing."

Alice turned from the laundry to her son. "You're my only son who tells me about his crushes."

"And the other one goes and dates them."

Alice grinned, fully aware of her younger son's dry sense of wit, which he usually kept hidden. "Cheeky lad. So, who is she?"

He mumbled something, and she sighed. "Son, I can't hear"—

"Nat."

Alice blinked. "Nat?"

Matt nodded, blushing hard.

Alice leaned back and thought about it. It was quite natural—he and Nat were as thick as thieves. They always had been. She was the girl he was closest to, and spent the most time with—and Nat was unconventionally beautiful. She herself loved the girl's voice after maturity—it had been soft and harsh before, but now, it was clear and profound, although she still retained the softness of her voice and her accent. She made Nat read out all the books, including the boring ones, just so that she could hear the girl speak. But this wasn't about her. It was about Matt.

"Does it feel any different now? That you have a crush on her?"

Matt nodded.

"Do you want to tell her?"

"I don't know, mama. She'll laugh at me."

Alice knew that for a fact, too. The boys who pined for her were far between, but she always sent them off with a laugh and with the words, "Look for a normal girl, _mal'chik_." But when it came to Matt…Nat had always been unpredictable when it came to Matt, so she didn't know how Nat would react.

Mama?" Matt's voice took her out of her thoughts. "Remember how you told me about papa? That he's the first person you see in the room, and you always keep thinking of keeping papa happy? And safe? And how his happiness is your happiness? And when he cuts his finger, your finger hurts too? It's like that. And that time when Nat came first in the running race? It was like _I_ was standing up there."

"Son, that's"—Alice didn't finish her sentence. With a small smile, she cupped her son's cheek. "Is that how you feel?"

He nodded.

"Then take care of her. Stay by her side. Don't let her go. You don't have to tell her anything—as long as you know it, and you feel that way, that's okay. You're doing an ace job of it already. So don't worry. Take care of her, and you'll be happy."

"You think so, mama?"

Alice nodded, and kissed her son's forehead. "I do that for papa every day. And he's happy, isn't he?"

"Thank you, mama." Matt squeezed her hand, got up, and moved out of the room. Alice leaned back, and sighed. Her son didn't have some silly crush—he was in love with the girl. As she folded another shirt, she thought about how easily Nat solved her problems.

Girls were so easy to talk to.

* * *

**A/T: And that, sadly, is the end of Mosaics.**

**Writing this was a bit hard, but a lot of fun. They're all from different timelines, but in all of them, they're below the age of twenty—the oldest Matt and Nat are would be eighteen, in the last one.**

**Jani, Adei, everyone reading this, I hoped you liked it. I LOVED writing this, especially once I got into the groove. Jani, sorry I couldn't do everything you said—I couldn't get those scenes in my head, and I didn't want to write something bad. **

**If you enjoyed it even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**

**P.S.: It's confirmed—college is starting from 13****th****. People, I can take another two requests—I'm working on Purestrongpoem's right now, so don't feel shy to ask—I have till the 6****th**** to write, so don't feel shy—I'd love to know what you guys want to see. I'll be looking for those PMs from you! ^^**


	22. My Birthday Treat - In Your Arms

**A/T: Phrases that should be eternally engraved:**

**1. "It's over 9000!"—we all know who said this.**

**2. "I procrastinate. But I do it like a pro."—Adei.**

**3. "If anyone ever brings up Advance Trigonometry or Logarithms or Derivatives, run for your life."—DV**

**4. "I just…tamed considerably. Or learned the black magic of getting away with my little misdeeds."—Jani.**

**5. "Broski."—LeHoff.**

**6. "Like a boss!"—Me. I talk, too, okay?**

**7. "You're an idiot."—Radium to me ( T-T ).**

**8. "Pastaaaa~!"—we all know who said this, too.**

**Wow, writing that was fun. Reading it's a lot more fun. (Okay, if any of you are offended, I'll take it down, seriously…)**

**I'm still waiting for requests, but if I don't get any, this will be the last one. And Scarlett-Clarke, thank you for your first review!**

* * *

**My Birthday Treat**

* * *

**Prompt: Germany x Italy**

* * *

**_For Purestrongpoem (Em)_**

**Pairing(s): Feliciano x Ludwig**

**_'Cause I can rely on you for your support…Welcome to the MFN family!_**

* * *

In your arms

Ludwig was tired to the bone. Between ice hockey practice and working at Dewdrops, the chocolate shop, Ludwig was drained of his energy and his will. He just wanted to go see one person.

And that person wasn't there.

He groaned, and plopped down right there on Eliza's front step. Alarmed, Eliza sat down next down to Ludwig, and put a hand on his knee. "What's wrong, _drágám_?"

"Where's Feliciano?"

"His exhibition's coming up in a week. He has one last painting to do, so he packed up and went on a train."

Ludwig knew Feliciano did that a lot, and each and every time, he went to a different place and caught the overnight train back to W City. But this time, Ludwig wanted him so badly…

"Did he call you up to tell you where he was?" Ludwig asked. His head was throbbing fiercely, but there was a whisper at the back of his mind that was insisting on something so ridiculous and impulsive that Ludwig would never do. He left the impulsiveness to Feliciano—one of them had to be mature and wise.

"He said he was in East Redmayne. He called up sometime in the afternoon to tell me. Guess he'll be back just before the exhibition, you know…"

Eliza continued to speak, but Ludwig was drowning in sounds and sensations—his head throbbed, his mind was tired and that whisper seemed to grow louder and louder, but he still couldn't make out the words—he could only feel the growing insistency of the voice. He gripped his head tighter. _Was zum teufel_?

_…sehen…sehen…ich…ich will ihn sehen._

_Ich will ihn sehen._

_I want to see him._

He got up, kissed Eliza on her cheek and ran down the stairs.

"Ludwig!"

He turned.

"Take a bath. You don't want to meet him stinking _mint egy hal_."

Ludwig chuckled, walked right up the stairs, and kissed Eliza on her cheek again.

She was right, and he loved her for it.

-x-

He didn't even know what he was doing—he asked for the fastest route to East Redmayne, jumped two trains and was there before he could even think. He grabbed a map, and turned to the station master. "Have you seen an Italian come up this way? He's got auburn hair and a curl"—

"Yes. The painter, right? He asked me for the most beautiful spot here. I told him he could find it if he went towards the farmland. Do you know him?"

Ludwig nodded, gave his thanks, and ran down the street, eyes on the map, charting the quickest course to the farm. It wasn't too far from the station, but a picturesque town like East Redmayne was spread far across, and he had to hitch a ride, going with the vegetable vendor making his way back home at the end of the day.

"You look new here."

"Yes. I came to see…a friend."

"Hmm. Who is this friend of yours?"

"He doesn't live here. He came to paint"—

"Oh, the painter?" The look on the man's face told Ludwig that Feli had already established a reputation in the town. "He asked me what the most beautiful place in this town was. I told him that the hills of Darla held the beauty of nature, and he could see everything he wanted to from there. But do you want to know a secret, son?"

It seemed rude to say otherwise, so Ludwig said, "Yes."

"The most beautiful place is in the arms of the one you love."

-x-

He climbed the tallest hill of Darla from the side. Behind him, night was approaching slowly. The farmlands to the west gave him an unobstructed view of the horizon, and the clean, clear air allowed him to see the darkness move across the sky. He could even spot the first stars. He turned, and trudged up the hill. The closer he got, the more demanding the voice grew—it was screaming at him now, to the point where he couldn't make sense of anything except the furious insistency behind the garbled sound.

He could see the end of the hill. Just a little bit more…

The stretch of green suddenly disappeared. Feliciano came into the view, and the voice died immediately.

He hadn't sensed him—his soul was trapped in the canvas, drawing out the colours to life. He had pinned his hair back—it was longer than he kept it, and fell over the collar of his black jacket. There was a botch of green on his cheek. His amber eyes were hooded, intense, focussed. He hadn't bothered to remove his jacket—it had splashes of red, yellow and blue on the sleeves. His palette was in one hand, the brush in his left hand. The sides of his jeans were coloured indistinguishably—he had a bad habit of cleaning his brushes on his clothes.

Ludwig took another step, and gasped softly. His head eclipsed the setting sun, the rays setting his amber hair aglow. Red, violet, orange rose from the sun, surrounded the sky Ludwig could see around him. The wind blew from the north, and Feliciano raised his head to it, letting it skim over his face, letting the healing rays play over his skin.

Ethereal. He was ethereal.

Ludwig closed his eyes, burning the image into his mind, into his heart. He raised his head to the wind, too, letting it embalm the picture in his mind.

_Ich leibe dich_.

Ludwig opened his eyes, and slowly stepped back, until he was out of sight. He walked to his right, and when he thought he was there, he made his way back up the hill. At the sight of Feli's back, something inside him…it was the strangest feeling, as if someone had opened a dam but the water was gushing _in_ instead of _out_. He felt it every single time, and it swept him off his feet.

He walked quietly to Feliciano. He'd forgotten all about hockey, all about chocolate, all about trains and buses and pucks and German drills—this was what mattered.

He embrace Feliciano, rested his head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He heard Feli's soft gasp, and drew Feli closer to him, into him.

"L-Ludwig?" he squeaked. Ludwig felt too lazy, too…content. He just wanted to stay like that, breathing in Feli's scent, rejuvenated by the warmth that seemed to draw Ludwig closer to him.

"Wh-When did you come here?"

Ludwig let out a rumble of contentment, and pressed a kiss to Feliciano's neck, right below his ear. Feliciano sighed, and set his palette and brush on the tall stool next to him. He rested one hand on Ludwig's, and drew Ludwig's other arm down so that they encircled his waist. "What happened, _cara_?"

Ludwig mumbled something into Feli's neck. His voice ran over Feli's skin, into him, and reached his heart. With a small smile, Feliciano made sense of Ludwig's words.

_I missed you._

"I missed you too, _cara_," Feliciano whispered back. "_Vorrei vedere voi_."

Ludwig eased his grip and straightened, allowed Feliciano to turn and face him. The Italian raised his hand to Ludwig's cheek. "You are tired."

"I had to see you."

Feliciano blinked, and grinned as Ludwig blushed a deep red. "You could've called."

"I…ah…" Embarrassed, Ludwig looked around Feliciano to the canvas, and gasped. Confused, Feliciano turned a little and looked at the painting.

"You like it?"

"It…It's beautiful…how did you…?"

"You're engraved _nella mia mente_. It was easy to paint you."

Ludwig continued to gape at the painting, and a thought suddenly flashed to him. He turned to Feliciano. "You aren't going to send that to the exhibition."

Feliciano frowned. "Why not?"

"B-Because…_Wir umarmen einander_."

"Eh?"

"We're hugging each other!" Ludwig whispered angrily.

Feliciano stared at him, then finally said, "A man whom I brought carrots from told me that the most beautiful place in the world in is the arms of the one you love._ E, _Ludwig_, ti amo_."

Ludwig sighed, and lowered his head. "I shall buy it from you."

"At the price of a kiss?"

Ludwig cupped Feliciano's face, and tilted his head up. "And much more." Ludwig pressed his lips to Feli's, sighed in contentment. "_Ich liebe dich_," he whispered against his mouth.

"_Ti amo_." Feli wrapped his arms around Ludwig's neck, and kissed him. Ludwig drew Feli's lips into his mouth, slid his tongue in, kissing him with the slow heat and the simple, joyous love he felt for _seinen mann,_ his Feliciano. With a small chuckle, Ludwig shifted his head, drew Feli closer.

This was truly the most beautiful spot in the world.

* * *

**A/T: OMFG, that was fluff. Em, I hope you liked it.**

**I finished watching Nodame Cantabile…feeling very, very sad. It's such a beautiful, awesome, funny story—really amazing. And I'm done reading the manga and watching the anime. I think I'll go read it again.**

**Waiting for a response from Scarlett-Clarke…that'll probably be the last of the birthday treats.**

**And I totally forgot—which part of Mosaics (the previous chapter) was your favourite? Mine was when Al began running around screaming for his mom. Good times, good times.**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris. **


	23. My Birthday Treat - Celebrations

**A/T: My brother gave me this new soap which smells like tea…I smell like tea. Cool. ^^**

**Last birthday treat! I'm going to miss you, drabbles…T-T**

**There's something utterly attractive about the thought of two females fighting (with the variable of a male)…I'm talking about dogs, and how my dog's long-time girlfriend (she's been with him ever since he was 9 months old) and his new girlfriend, Belarus, love to pick fights with each other, or at least wag their bum in the other's general direction. My dog, however, sees nothing compelling about it—he runs away from both said females, while I stand there for a while and then rescue Patches. But Patches usually wins. 'Cause she's boss.**

**Okay, random rant complete.**

* * *

**My Birthday Treat**

* * *

**Prompt: Rochu**

* * *

**_For Scarlett-Clarke (Scarlett)_**

**Pairing(s): Ivan x Chun-Yan**

**_I started the day before my b'day getting to know how you felt about MFN…Thanku!_**

* * *

Celebration

_I shall never bring a daughter into this world, _sestra_. This cruel world doesn't deserve an innocent girl who believes in it._

Ivan blearily came out of the clutches of sleep, the thought vibrating in his mind. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair and opened his eyes, wondering how Katyusha was doing. He got up, not giving himself time to think, but his brain seemed to take pleasure in throwing the past in his face.

_They say men learn about being a father from their own fathers. _Sestra_, I'll never be a father to any child—they deserve better._

It was a Sunday, so he had practice in the evening. He washed his face, and began brushing his teeth. He had lots of time to kill before practice, and a lot of time meant he could think. He thought of what he could do during the day.

Playing on the ice was an option, but he dismissed the idea of torture before the actual session itself. Between Berwald and Gilbert, none of them would be able to breathe at the end of four hours. He could go and see how his shops were running, but he didn't want to—it meant working with people who reminded him of that daughterfucker. He would kill them all, but they treated their women with utmost respect, and that determined the fact that they were still alive.

He knew what he really wanted to do, but he wanted to pretend that there were other things he could do. But he didn't like to pretend. He wanted to go see Chun-Yan.

But first, his hands were itching to make a huge breakfast.

_To celebrate_, Ivan thought. _This is the day _ubil etogo ublyudka.

-x-

Ivan rummaged through the mailbox, and pulled out the letters and envelopes. Ever since he began…seeing Chun-Yan, it was a Sunday ritual for him to take out their letters and deliver it to them on their table. So the rest of them didn't bother trying to clear up the mailbox on Sundays—they just got ready for another day at the restaurant.

He was a bit late, because Kiku, Mei, Yong Soo and Kaoru emerged from the house, Mei and Kiku arguing, Yong Soo dancing to the songs blaring in his earphones and Kaoru reading the morning newspaper. Ivan passed them one by one, handing them their mail, but they all did something they never did—they stopped in a row, blocking the pathway to the house.

"You can't go in there," Mei said.

Kiku snapped at her for her rudeness, and turned to Ivan. "Ivan-san, I suggest you don't see _nee-san_ today."

Something gripped Ivan's stomach in a vice grip. "Is she ill?"

"Umm, no…" Yong Soo said, removing his earphones. "She…ahh…" They all exchanged glances, and finally turned to Kiku.

"Today's the anniversary of her sister," Kiku explained slowly. "She likes to be left alone today."

Ivan nodded, but Kiku noticed the tightening of his hand over Chun-Yan's mail. He nodded, and turned to his siblings, who walked away reluctantly. Kiku looked at Ivan, and sighed resignedly. "Please leave as quickly as you can." With that piece of advice, Kiku joined his siblings and left.

Ivan looked at her mail, thinking. He was a selfish bastard, and he needed Chun-Yan. And this was curious…he saw a slip of paper, without an envelope, and slipped it to the top, reading the letter. Smiling with a cruelty embedded deep within him, he began walking to the house, still reading it. He let himself in, and followed the sound of Chun-Yan's singing. She sang…quite well, actually. It was in Chinese, so he just followed the feel of the song. It sounded like a mythical story spun into a child's lullaby.

He entered the room, and found her sitting before a photograph. She was wearing a long top and the typical Chinese worker trousers, but they were more worn and comfortable looking that the slightly jazzier ones she usually wore. She'd left her hair open, and the ends of her long, straight tresses rested on the floor behind her. Her eyes were closed, her hands were clasped in front of her, and she had shut herself off from the rest of the world, for she didn't hear him.

He watched her sing, and took as good a look as he could of the photograph from the doorway. _Chun-Yan's _sestra, Ivan thought, noticing the innocence in the little girl's eyes and the copy of Chun-Yan's features on her face.

_I shall never bring a daughter into this world, _sestra_. This cruel world doesn't deserve an innocent girl who believes in it._

The words played in his mind again, over the soothing music. He tossed the letters on the table near the door, disturbing Chun-Yan. He watched as she jolted to awareness, her eyes finding him. He saw the same innocence in her own eyes before a sheen of cynicism covered it, hid it, protected it.

"What are you doing here, aru?"

"Looking at you."

"Today's not a day I want to spend with others, aru."

"I know. Honda told me."

Chun-Yan looked at him closely. "Yet you still stand before me, aru."

He shrugged, clearly reading the messages she held in those eyes of hers. She turned away from him, and continued to sing. He made himself comfortable, and reread the unstamped letter again, smiling at the way Chun-Yan's 'well-wisher' elaborately damned him.

By the time he'd read it for the third time—he was an utter idiot, but he liked knowing what people thought about him—Chun-Yan was done. She got up, whispered something to the photograph and walked towards Ivan, braiding her hair as she walked. "No practice today?"

He shook his head.

"Come to the kitchen."

He picked up the mail, and watched as she efficiently braided the entire length of her hair, then wrapped it around and twisted it into a bun. They walked to the kitchen, and she poured two cups of hot tea, and handed one to him. He slid the mail over to her, and Chun-Yan raised an eyebrow. "Have you been reading my mail, aru?"

"Only the ones people don't trust the postal service with. It's quite funny, actually."

Frowning, Chun-Yan read it, and pressed her mouth into a thin line. Before she could crumple it into a ball, Ivan stopped her. "You didn't read the whole thing."

"I read enough, aru."

"Oh, but it just gets better in the end, Chun-Yan."

She looked at him dead in the eye as she crumpled it and tossed it into the oven. "I don't need people telling me what to think, aru. I do a fine job of it myself."

"Did your sister pass away today, or is it her birthday?"

"None of your business, aru." She lifted the cup to her mouth, and took a sip.

"Whatever you do is my business, Chun-Yan."

"This shouldn't bother you, aru."

"If you lock yourself up in your house, then yes, it bothers me."

The words were those of concern, but there was none in his tone. "You shouldn't have come today, aru."

"Why is that? Don't care to spend time with 'an uneducated, filthy foreigner who couldn't care less for society'?"

She just took another sip of her tea, and his want to antagonize her grew even further. "I don't think you came to that part just yet. Maybe it was in the beginning. 'A rascal with no scruples and morals, roaming wildly with the intention of destroying everything in his path'. That must've"—

She jerked the cup of tea at him, and he reflexively closed his eyes. But when no scalding liquid fell on him, he opened his eyes to see her set the empty cup down. "I don't know what kind of a mood you are in, Ivan, but I don't wish to fight anyone today, aru. If I can't hold my silence, then at least give me the space to keep my temper in check, aru." She got up, and put the teacup in the sink. She braced the edge of the sink, exhaled, and turned to Ivan. "What put you in a foul mood, aru?"

"Maybe it's the fact that someone's writing things like this to you."

"Liar."

"What gave me away?"

"The fact that you know I believe only what I believe, aru. What is it?"

"I feel like celebrating today."

"I don't. And by the way you've been acting, neither do you, aru."

"I made breakfast for my family today."

"Ivan, spit it out."

"It'll take your mind off your sister. I wouldn't do that to you."

Chun-Yan's eyes narrowed. "Why are you acting like a bastard?"

"I'm a lot of things, but my father was unhappily married to my mother when I was born."

"Then why are you behaving like…like…like a guy?"

Ivan blinked, completely forgetting his next quip. "Eh?"

"You're behaving like you don't care about anyone else, aru. That the only thing which matters is what you want. You're not like that, aru."

"Apparently, I am. In the letter"—

She walked up to him, and grabbed his cheeks in a painful grip. "You shut up and listen to me, aru. I don't care what you say or what anyone says. I know you, and you might not be anything close to the guys who are gallant and gentlemanly and all that _fèihuà_—the kind of guys who are in books and movies. But Ivan Braginsky, you are a decent man who respects women and who cares for others, so just spit out your problem and get it over with, aru." He took her wrist and moved it away from his face, opening his mouth to respond but Chun-Yan spoke before he could. "And don't bother asking me to repeat that again—you know exactly what I meant, aru."

With his foot, he pulled a chair for her, and she sat down on it. He held her hand in his lap, playing with her fingers. "When I was fourteen, I had admitted _sestra_ to a convent hospital. They took good care of her, because I gave them all the money they needed. When I went back home, I saw my father beating up my mother even as he ploughed into her like a bull. I had a gun in my belt. I took it out, shot her thrice, told my father to get out of her, and shot him in his _mudak_. I loaded one last bullet and shot it down his throat. Then, on this day, I took my sister out of the hospital, and we left that place. We don't know what happened to anyone. As long as I was in Russia, I kept sending the sisters money. When I told them I was going to leave, they came to the port on that last day, kissed my cheeks, and bid me—Chun-Yan?"

His heart broke as he watched her shed tears of genuine sorrow for him. He reached out, and wiped her cheeks. "_Ne plach'_. Don't cry, Chun-Yan. Please." He kissed her cheeks, just like Sister Maria had, and kissed her forehead. "Don't cry, Chun-Yan."

"O-On this day," Chun-Yan started. "My sister was born, aru. She was"—

"It's okay, Chun-Yan."

"She died, three years after she was born. Our house caught fire, and no one noticed her inside. I just"—

Ivan raised both her hands to his lips, held them there.

"Every year, I sing her favourite song. She had learnt the first seven stanzas, aru. She loved that song, about a prince and a princess. She made me sing it every night to her, aru." Chun-Yan laughed a little. "Bossy little brat."

"Just like her sister."

Chun-Yan narrowed her eyes at Ivan. "I am not bossy."

"_Da_, _da._"

"I am _not_!"

Ivan just nodded, and she pushed him away. He hadn't been sitting, just standing rather awkwardly, so he fell down, wincing when his head hit the chair.

"Are you alright, aru?"

Ivan rubbed the back of his throbbing head, and she hurried over to his side, pressing her hand over his. "Does it hurt?"

"Yes, woman, it hurts. You pushed me, I fell. It hurts." He winced a little at the sharp pain, but he could still felt her lips press on the damaged site.

"There's a little bump there, aru," Chun-Yan said apologetically. "I didn't know you weren't sitting."

He touched the bump, and winced, making Chun-Yan feel even sorrier. "_Duìbùqǐ_!" she apologized. "I'm really sorry, aru."

He opened one eye, and stared at her contrite face. At once, his business side began mixing in the pleasure. If he ran those shops successfully, it was because he was a good businessman. And a good businessman never missed an opportunity.

"Make me feel better."

She was as good a businesswoman as he was, and she didn't miss the sly twinkle in his eyes. "How can you think about _that_ when your head is paining, aru?"

"My life is flashing before my eyes, Chun-Yan…"

Chun-Yan cupped his face in her hands, and tilted his head up. "Now it's just me, aru."

Ivan slid his hand over her cheek, and brought her head down, chuckling when she muttered "Impatient brat." She fused her mouth down on his, slipped her tongue in, ran her hands through his thick hair, moved her fingers over his bump. He winced, biting into her tongue, and she yelped into his mouth. She eased back, and bit his nose.

"Ow!"

"That hurt, aru."

"I agree. You bit my nose."

"You bit my tongue, aru."

"You touched my wound."

"Ohh."

He took her hands, and placed them on his chest. "Keep your hands here."

She grinned. "Happily."

Muttering about his plight, he reached up and kissed her again, unable to stop the rumble of contentment that went through him as her tongue ran over his again.

Maybe a quiet moment with her was all the celebration he needed.

When Chun-Yan bit down on his lip and slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his pants, he rephrased the last thought he'd have for a long time.

It wasn't going to stay too quiet anymore.

* * *

**A/T: It started as something and became something…phaa, this was tough. Toughest, I think. I was aiming for sad/angry moving to smexy, but this became angry - sad - cute-ish. Wrong time of the month, I guess.**

**I had an omelette today! My mom made it for me and my bro, and she put chilli and onion and pepper and all that—dinner today was yum.**

**Thirty more minutes…I finished this before my birthday! Rec-cord timing!**

**Last birthday treat guys. Come tomorrow, and we're back to our regularly scheduled programme…I never thought I could write so much in the past five days. I amaze myself. **

**This has got to be the best pre-b'day week I've ever had—writing, writing and more writing. And PMing and grinning over reviews. So, thank you, guys! T-T**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**R. K. Iris. **


	24. Chapter 15: A glimpse of the puppeteer

**A/T: This seems to be the birthday of changes…it wasn't gloomy in the morning (it usually is; it's gloomy now, though), my parents didn't wake me up with a happy birthday and shove cards into my face, and only Sarni called…but it's gloomy again, like it has been for the past ten years, and I'm happy. Something's normal.**

**Thanku all! Woke up to three new awesome reviews! Thank you Scarlett, Em and Adei! DV, all the best for your exams!**

**Now, back to our regularly scheduled programme…which chapter are we on?**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 15

"We need a captain."

Everyone looked up at Tino, breathing heavily. They had three breaks in the four hours that they played, and most of it was spent in splashing water on their faces and regaining their breath.

"We coaches have been thinking," Tino continued, having everyone's attention, "and we thought we would ask all of you whom you want as captain."

"Vote?"

Tino nodded at Acharya. "Yes, like a vote. You guys can vote for whom you think should be captain."

"I think…_I_ should be captain," Archarya panted, and howled when Aryan hit him on his head.

"Okay, nominated," Tino said, and everyone blinked at him. "Sharma, who do you think should be captain?"

Aryan looked down the line. "Ivan."

Ivan choked on his water.

After Aryan, everyone decided to vote for themselves, and when it came to Ivan, everyone stopped arguing amongst themselves and stared at him, expecting him to vote for himself. He turned to Aryan. "_Spasibo,_ Aryan, for that vote of confidence, but there's a much better player here who can lead the team properly. He knows the game better than all of us dullards, so…I vote for Matt."

All of them blinked at him, slowly seeing sense in his words. They turned towards Matt, who was slowly trying to make himself more and more invisible, but was failing rather hopelessly. With a small grin of satisfaction, Ivan turned to Tino. "How about we vote ag"—

The blare of emergency horns cut him off, and everyone looked around.

"Whose phone is that?" Tino yelled above the noise. "Braginsky, what the hell are you doing?"

Ivan was removing his equipment on the double, handing it to Matt. "I have some urgent business," Ivan said, removing his shoulder pads. "Matthew."

Matt, aware of what the still blaring emergency horns meant, nodded, knowing what the older man wanted him to do. Ivan got up, and turned to Tino. "My vote stands—Matthew should be captain. Excuse me." And he ran out, the light dying from his eyes.

Whoever had touched his _sestra_ was going to pay with their life.

-x-

Kat broke the man's nose, ignored the bolt of pain that shot up her knuckles, took his bat and hurled it at the man behind Ray. It connected squarely on the man's forehead, sending him staggering back, alerting Ray of the assailant from behind. She turned back to the man she was holding by the collar, and drew her knee to his groin, dropping him as he curled into a ball. She inhaled deeply, and kicked him in the ribs, putting all her force behind the pointed end of her boot.

_Crack_.

_Bogi_, but this felt good. Kat had forgotten how good it felt to hurt someone.

Something shined into her eyes, and she bent down to pick up the dog tags on the ground. The swish of a bat above her head snapped her out of her fascination. She picked up the fallen dog tag and threw it at what she assumed to be the man's face.

It was slightly off mark, but it grabbed his attention long enough for Kat to rise and kick him in the stomach. He staggered back, and Kat walked towards him, recognizing his face. "Bob, played enough for a day?"

"Y-You monster!" With a yell, Bob raised the bat high in the air, only to have his arm held in midair and wrenched from its socket.

Ivan pulled the man's hand, listening to the rip of muscles as he attempted to tear the man's arm out. "Oh, no, friend, you have it all wrong," Ivan whispered into the man's ears even as he screamed. "My _sestra_ isn't a monster. But I am." He relaxed, then yanked it one last time, sending the man into unconsciousness.

He dropped the man without a second glance, and turned to Kat. "Are you alright?" he asked her as he walked towards her. He cupped her face, checking for injuries, then patted her hands down.

"I'm fin—Ivan!"

With one, fluid motion, Ivan spun around and held a knife to his assailant's temple before she could blink. He turned away from his sister, and faced the female instead. "This is in bad taste, _da_? And I don't even know your name."

"You bastard," she bit out, her furious eyes meeting his squarely.

"And you think it isn't wrong for the ten of you to gang up and hurt an unarmed woman?" Ivan asked her, and watched as she lowered her eyes. "You can call me names, _suka_, but a hypocrite's words hold no meaning to me. Who sent you here?"

She muttered something, and yelped when Ivan grabbed her by the collar and dragged her inches from his face. "I am a very patient man," he whispered. "And it is patient men like me whom you should be scared of. Do you want to know why?"

She was already shaking, but Ivan saw the stubborn will with which she tried to hold back her fear from her face.

"I'll tell you why. I have the patience to wait for days, weeks even, to get information from you. And I won't kill you, either—I don't harm women. But I will give you a gun at the end of it, and I won't stop you when you shoot yourself. So either you tell me now, or we can wait."

The fear entered her eyes, and she collapsed when Ivan let go of her. He turned to his men waiting in the shadows. "Teach this woman what it means to harm my family on my own turf," he whispered, seeing the reflection of his merciless face in her watery, scared eyes. Two men ambled down to him; one of them gently picked the girl up, pressing a knife hidden from all eyes to her back, and the other walked to Ivan. "What about them?"

Ivan picked up the dog tag Kat had thrown and read the inscription. He turned to Yuri, and handed it over to him. "_He_ is their boss. Go and dump them at his doorstep. Once the girl squeaks, send her back with our message."

Yuri knew exactly what Ivan meant—he wasn't Ivan's right hand man for nothing. He nodded, and clenched the metal in his hand.

"I'll come by the shops in the evening," Ivan said, and Yuri nodded. "_Uvidimsya pozzhe, _boss."

Ivan nodded his farewell, and turned to Kat, who was busy attending a man surrounded by cats. Frowning, he walked over to them, his fists deep in his pocket, still quivering with the urge of breaking someone's bones. Kat looked up, and stood. The man also stood up, a few inches shorter than Ivan, but Ivan didn't miss the tough interior behind the sleepy demeanour and droopy eyes.

"_Brat_, this is Heracles Karpusi…Ray. This is my brother, Ivan Braginsky."

Ivan nodded curtly. "Thank you for protecting my sister."

Ray shook his head. "She fought them three at a time. I helped."

"I trust you to drop her home."

"_Brat_"—

"You will go home," Ivan said pointedly. "_Poydete domoy_."

"_No_"—

"_Sestra_."

"I can't be scared of such things, _brat_!" Kat said angrily.

Ivan smiled sadly, and Kat's anger gave way to shame. "But I can. _Sestra,_ please. _Domoy_."

"We can talk about Sonya on the way back home," Ray said, grabbing hold of her sleeve.

Ivan smiled quizzically. "You gave her the cat?"

Ray shrugged. "It made her happy."

_Funny man,_ Ivan thought. "I trust my sister with you, Heracles Karpusi."

Ray nodded, and turned to Kat. "I'll be waiting near that alley there. I saw three cats."

Kat smiled and nodded. "_Antío_," Ray said, and began slowly walking towards the alley he pointed towards.

"Strange man," Ivan commented.

_ "On tebe nravitsya."_

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "You like him more than I do."

Ivan held back a chuckle at the pink that tinted his sister's cheeks. "Well…it has only been a day…"

Ivan let out a small chuckle at that, and kissed his sister on her forehead. "Take care, _sestra_."

She made a face, but she kissed him on his forehead, and gave his hand one last squeeze. "_Do svidaniya,_" she greeted, and hurried over to where Ray was being ambushed by cats.

With a chuckle, he made his way back to where he'd parked his car, and thanked Chun-Yan again for bringing his sister out into the open, where she could laugh and enjoy herself.

* * *

"Boss, it's me, Tash."

"What is it?"

"His Royal Asshole's here."

More than mirth, he felt a sense of foreboding coming over him. "When?"

"Sometime in the afternoon. He says he has a message from Koroleva."

_I wonder if he was freeloading with us all this time._ "It's his job to have messages from her."

"She contacted him today."

"Do you know why?"

"Nuh-uh. He's got spies everywhere, boss. I can't say."

"I'm coming over."

He drove a little faster, and parked outside the warehouse they used. To his surprise, he saw the man on his mind standing outside, waiting. He never did that—he sat in the cool interiors of the warehouse, drinking vodka while awaiting his arrival. He saw Tash hurrying over to him, and turned to the boy. "Why is he outside? Someone should've told him that it melts the makeup he puts to cover his ugly mug."

Tash chuckled, then grew serious. "What I got to know, Koroleva's pissed as hell"—

"When isn't that bitch pissed?"

"Quietly," Tash warned. "That sonovabitch has ears everywhere."

"This is my turf, Tash. I'm not his bloody dog." Sighing, he brought himself back on track. "Continue."

"Koroleva's pissed. Someone let her know that Braginsky kicked our asses and took Rena with him."

"Find the bug and squash him. I don't appreciate loose tongues on my team. What do you know about Rena?"

"She hasn't spit yet. But that bastard has the means to make even a rock talk. Do we go"—

"It'll be all out war. We wait. Rena's our best. She can handle herself."

He nodded. "He's got Koroleva on the line inside."

"Someone tell her she'll die waiting for someone other than herself," he muttered, and walked up to Klaus, the man with the walking stick up his ass. "Isn't it too hot for you out here?"

"I have been waiting for too long."

"Standing like this? Gee, I feel bad for you. Wait, let me talk to my men about how to take care of guests."

"I don't appreciate your sarcasm."

"I don't appreciate your presence. But you don't see me complaining, do you?" He moved passed Klaus, and began walking inside the warehouse. People stopped what they were doing for a moment to watch him pass by, then got back to their work. The warehouse looked old and crumbly, but it was built like a fort—it could sustain probably even a grenade. They walked to the most secure part of the warehouse, and sat down in the comfortably furnished room. Klaus handed over the phone, and stood. Tash left the room, waited outside.

He'd long learnt to ignore Klaus's presence, and held the phone to his ear. "Cross."

"_Mon cher_, I just had the most disturbing piece of news."

_Broke a nail, bitch_? "Anything to do with me?"

"Your men couldn't handle a single woman."

"My men were outnumbered by her brother's men."

"Cutting off means of escape is the first step in killing your prey, _moy dorogoy_."

He hated it when she switched from French to Russian in a heartbeat. "Well, this prey somehow grew her claws back."

"I thought she was locked up in her room."

Her tone got on his nerves. "Not anymore."

"Well, this is unexpected."

He waited as she thought—he didn't waste his time saying anything before she spoke herself. The woman neither appreciated it nor did she keep her displeasure about it to herself.

"Hmm. I don't suppose she poses much of a threat, _vous ne pensez pa_?"

"She has no inclination for trouble."

"Well, then. Let her be, for now. _Plokho golubka_ started moving around, let her enjoy the fresh air for a while. Now, about your associate who was taken. What will you do?"

"I'll take my orders from you."

She laughed, and he remembered what had mesmerized him, drawn him to her the first time they had spoken, even though he'd never seen her in his life. "If they've made her talk, well, _c'est dommage_. Rescue her or eliminate her, I leave the choice to you."

"What about Braginsky?"

"Dear little Ivan?" She laughed again, but something about it sent goosebumps all over his skin. "Oh, give me some time to think. Things like this can't be rushed. All the little details count, do they not?"

He had no choice but to agree. "They do."

"I think I'll take my time planning. When I crush him this time, he'll go down and stay there."

* * *

Tino looked at his team. Everyone, from the captain to the substitutes, was nervous, and Tino was tired of dealing with a bunch of lugs who seemed to be walking on eggshells. Yelling more than twice about the same thing showed that he had no respect for himself or for them, and his yelling at them on the ice wasn't working. They were forgetting all the plays and defences and manoeuvres, and the more Tino yelled at them, the more confidence they lost.

It was like trying to take care of ten year olds.

"Okay, fine, go sit down," Tino said wearily, and watched as his players moved to the bench. The match against Scottsdale was in two days, and if his boys didn't pull it together, they were going to lose all that they'd worked for for the past six weeks. Tino didn't mind if they lost as much as he did if they laid waste to their four hours of training every day, six days a week.

"Daddy! Look at me!"

Tino's head shot up at Peter's yell of delight. He never called Berwald as dad during practice; he called them all coach. He looked up and saw Peter wearing a blue woollen shirt with the black silhouette of a racing hockey player printed on the front, and a caption printed in silver, which Tino couldn't read. There were two thick stripes going down the outside length of the sleeves, one red and one black, with a black collar and black cuffs.

Peter raced up to Berwald and spun, and Tino could make out 'W City' printed in black, and because Peter was turning, he couldn't make out the caption written below, either.

"Delivery!"

All of them turned, and blinked as a whole hoard of people came onto the ice, wearing shirts similar to the one Peter was wearing. Eliza tossed a shirt in Gilbert's face, and set down a huge box on the bench. "Your jerseys, just as you asked," Eliza said, pushing it over. Nat and a dusky skinned girl came in, carrying another box.

Acharya looked up, and gaped. "Tanusha? What are you doing here?"

His girlfriend bounded over to him, wearing the same shirt as Peter. "Like it?" she asked, and chuckled when he kept staring at her in amazement.

Nat was wearing the same T shirt in green, and she went over to where Ivan and Matt were sitting.

"What's going on?" Ivan asked.

"Official W City T-shirts," Nat said. "Elizabeta has been working on them for some time now. Everyone in the entire town's getting one."

Matt blinked at her grin of delight. "Yours is green."

"_Da_. There's blue, red, green and black. It looks _fantasticheskiy_," Nat said, and both men looked at her with an expression of incredulity and amazement.

"You actually like it," Ivan said, and Nat looked at her shirt, pleased.

"It looks really nice. Come and get yours."

"Did the restaurant let up?" Matt asked.

"_Net_. But Elizabeta wanted me to deliver these, so the Bonnefoy employed another boy. Brazilian, I think," Nat said, and greeted others with an uncharacteristically happy smile. "We're all going around giving it to people at an affordable rate. And people who can't pay up get it free, but don't tell anyone that."

Nat's excitement was so genuine and so infectious that everyone there began smiling at her, and some of them even went to take their own T-Shirts.

Nat turned to Matt. "Captain, huh? Tanu told me."

Matt frowned, for which Ivan said, "Acharya's girlfriend."

"_Pozdravlyayu_," Nat congratulated, and narrowed her eyes when both men gaped at her. "What?"

"You're really happy," Matt observed, and Ivan stifled a laugh behind his hand. With a glare, she threw the shirt she had been holding behind her on Ivan, and quickly leaned down and kissed Matt on his lips. Ivan removed the shirt from his face, and looked at Nat's retreating figure and Matt's blushing face. "You are not going to do weird things with my little sister, comrade," Ivan whispered, giving Matt a chilling smile. Matt just gulped and looked away, watching Nat's retreating figure.

Nat walked to Eliza. "I'll load the rest and take it."

Eliza smiled gratefully. "I'll be with you in a sec. Take Tanu with you."

Nat grabbed the girl's sleeve and forcefully pulled her away from her boyfriend, ignoring her pleas and cries.

Eliza just grinned at the two of them. "They make a really good pair."

Gilbert fingered the hem of her green shirt. "So this is what you were working on."

Eliza turned to him. "What do you think?"

He grinned at her. "It's awesome."

Eliza just rolled her eyes, and took the shirt he'd draped over one shoulder. "We've made one for everyone. I called in for some help, and got it done. Since our boys are going out for the first time, I thought this would motivate them. You've been complaining about it for quite some time now, too."

Gilbert thought as he absently played with her shirt's hem. An idea struck him, and he suddenly tugged on her shirt, turning her attention to him. He looked at her. "Thank you."

She blinked. _Weird_. "Y-You're welcome?"

He took the shirt from her, and pulled it on. "I'll see you in the evening," he said as he walked past her. Rolling her eyes at his weirdness, she picked up the box, but Gilbert's cry of, "Listen up!" caught her attention. Moving towards the door inconspicuously, she stood and watched.

Gilbert didn't notice her there. "You see this awesome shirt I'm wearing? Two days from now, everyone in town is going to be wearing this shirt. Do you unawesome lads know why?" Gilbert looked at everyone in the eye, and continued to talk. "Because they're coming here to support you. You are their team. You are W City's team. You might be a grocer or a book keeper or a university student, but two days from now, you are all hockey players. Each and every one of you. You're going to play hockey like it's your last day, and you're going to win. Do you want to know why?"

He had everyone's attention now, but he didn't want just that. He wanted their souls to hear what he was saying, to feel what he was trying to say. "Do you?" he yelled.

"Yes Coach!"

"Because we play for the people who raised us. We are playing, in two days, not for ourselves—but for all the people who've got you this far. We might not be professionals, but there are people out there who think we are. Do you want to disappoint them?"

"No, Coach!"

Gilbert folded his arms and grinned belligerently at all his students. "Awesome."

Matt got up, and looked at his team. "We best get started, if we're going to do anything."

Eliza quietly watched as the entire team roared and moved behind Matt and Ivan, with Gilbert stand there, looking proudly as his men marched off to the battle. And for some unfathomable reason, she was feeling the same burst of fierce pride in her own heart.

_Off you go, my brave captain_, Eliza thought, remembering the poem Alice had written when they were younger._ And together we shall slay the dragon._

Well, at least if she didn't have a dragon to slay, she could make him the best goulash ever.

* * *

"Oh, so you do have something besides dark vests and army trousers," Alfred commented as she came into the restaurant.

"Oh, so those glasses aren't for decoration," Nat replied with equal bite, and walked towards the kitchen. "I'm back!"

"Welcome back, _chère fille_," Francis responded. "Help me cut this, _cher_."

"Don't let her do it, dad. She'll get her pretty shirt dirty. And we all know she buys clothes once in a decade."

Nat narrowed her eyes. "He wouldn't trust you with the vegetables because you'd end up cutting the board than the potatoes. Besides, I don't dress like a peacock."

Alfred's eyes sharpened at her insult. "Some of us aren't _colour blind_."

"Well, you're going to _blind_ me with your _colour_."

Alfred gaped at that, and Nat grinned. "Shut your mouth before the mosquitoes come in." With a smirk, she went back to cutting the vegetables while Alfred huffed away.

"Points for you, _cher_," Francis comment, and she shrugged.

"I delivered your shirts home as well—one for the three of you. I put it on the table."

"_Merci,_" Francis said, patting her behind as he walked away. He stepped back, and dodged the kick that came his way, grinning as he went to prep with Toris.

Nat could best his son, but Francis was the boss.

* * *

Nat hated peppy ringtones, and when the one for Matt dragged her out of her sleep, she received on reflex and growled into the phone.

"Wow. Am I speaking to a grizzly bear?"

And she hated his voice, too. "Jones, what the fuck is the time?"

"Just over one."

"Some of us have a job to go to in the morning. Good nigh"—

"Waitwaitwait. I need you to take me to the match the day after."

"To hell with you. I'm going to"—

"Someone slashed my tyres, Natalia."

Nat opened one eye wearily, and paused. "Go with the Bonnefoy."

"Dad's going to be picking mom up from the station, so he'll be a bit late. I want to wish Matt all the best before he goes to play. Natalia, you know how I feel."

"Beg."

Silence. "You're enjoying this, aren't"—

"You disturb my sleep, _ublyudok_. I have that right."

He sighed heavily. "Natalia Arlovskaya, I _beg_ you to take me with you when you're going for the match, since I know you also want to wish my baby brother all the best. Happy?"

"We'll se"—

"Natalia!"

"I want to sleep! Can't this wait!?" she groaned.

"I need you to pick me up tomorrow, too."

"Fine. Bye. Go to hell."

"Good night, Natalia."

He was a jackass, but he was being nice. She growled, "Good night," and shoved the phone into the drawer, hoping to God that she didn't have another dream like the one she had the previous day.

Tomorrow was going to be a torture in itself.

* * *

**A/T: ****Jani, THANKU FOR THE LUUVELY NAT & MATT PICS! I LOVE YOU!**

**Honestly, I don't know what I can do to repay that... D,X**

** Me pops and I just watched the most cracked up piece of crack movie—it's called Snatch, and it has Jason Statham and Brad Pitt in it…I would give it the award for being the most cracked bit of creation EVER. I swear, I'll even buy the CD to see it again…Oh my God. That was awesome. And in the boxing scene Brad Pitt looks like Alfred with a beard…sexy as HELL. *fanning self furiously***

**Ever had that 12 midnight moment where you're awake and someone PMs you, writing something that they think is really funny that pisses the fucking crap out of you? Overreacting, but someone just put a damper on the last few minutes of my birthday, and I want to fucking kill them. PMing someone you want to kill is a bad thing to do at 12, but I wrote a decent and curt message. Maybe I'll get to the point where I can string together all the Russian/Greek/French/whatnot cuss words I know and throw it all in one PM—I am unbelievably pissed right now, you have no idea.**

**When I woke up, though, I was in a better mood, so…I've been gorging on chocolates and peanuts the entire day…I'm going to grow fat. T-T…I shall abstain! Yosh!**

**Next time: The match! (I'll leave the motorcycle riding part to your hyperactive imaginations…ehehehe)**

**If you guys liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**

**P.S.: For all of you living in the west: HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**


	25. Chapter 16: The Match part 1

**A/T:**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia, or any of the songs that appear in this chapter.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 16

"Get on."

Alfred was prompt, and that pissed her off—she couldn't horn all she wanted and blame it on his lack of punctuality. He got into the side carriage, and put his helmet on. "Let's go!" he yelled, and she rolled her eyes as she started the Harley. Since hers was a one-seater, she had long before gotten herself a side carriage.

She was quite…nervous. She didn't know why. Matt was a really good player; he must've gotten so much, much better in the past few weeks. But still…she drove a little faster. She didn't want him to be disappointed. It didn't matter to her whether he won or lost—she just wanted him to be happy.

There. She admitted it.

She thought about what she could give him as a farewell gift…well, if he was going. She didn't want to give him something trifle or stupid, like a mug or a keychain or dogtags. She wanted him to be reminded of her whenever he saw that. She didn't want to give him a photoframe—they'd taken millions of photographs with each other, but a photoframe was too…much. She felt it was too unlike her, and it…well, it just didn't feel right.

"You're going to fry your brains if you think so much."

Startled, Nat saw the red light and stopped, and turned to Al. "What?"

"What are you thinking about?"

She shook her head, and looked at the red light, thinking. What could she give Matt? She could give him socks. But she needed him to look at his _feet_ to remember her…and all he'd think about would probably be how stinky they were. Yuck. She could give him a badge, but he'd tote it around all the time, and that would embarrass _her_. She shuddered, then turned the engine back on as the lights changed to green.

What did he use all the time? What could she give him that would be inconspicuous, yet remind him of her? She took a left, parked in her usual spot and switched off the engine. _Bogi_, she had been his best friend for _so freaking long_. She would come up with it.

Clothes. He wore clothes a lot. He didn't like roaming around without clothes on, no matter how hot the weather. Fine. She would give him some—

Someone jerked her back, throwing her back into the real world. She turned, and saw Alfred holding her arm. "Eh?"

"You were going to walk into that car," he said, and sighed. "I just wish you'd tell me what you were thinking about. Two heads are better than one."

"I'm better off without your head," she retorted, but sighed. "I'm just wondering…never mind. Thank you."

His arm curled around her waist. "So that you don't walk into something else when you're thinking," he said, and guided her. Grateful for his support—and painfully aware of his hand on her waist—Nat thought of exactly what she could give Matt, but it was quite distracting, having Al's thumb rub up and down idly, and his fingers were thrumming on her side…she decided she'd keep herself from thinking for a while.

"I'm done thinking," she said.

"Hmm?"

"I'm. Done. Thinking. Thank. You."

"Oh. _Oh_." He quickly removed his arm, and put his hand in his pocket. She focussed on the black shirt he was wearing instead. "Somehow, you didn't manage to ruin it."

"Ha-ha. Just admit it, Natalia—I look _hot_."

He looked sexy, but that was beside the point. She snorted, and looked at the colour combination—it had silver and navy blue stripes down the sleeves, and the caption at the back and the silhouette in the front were all in silver. "Keep dreaming. Have you seen the Scottsdale players play?"

Al nodded. "They're fantastic. They've represented the state quite a number of times, and a few of their players are on contract basis with the NHL. You know, even if we don't win today, I hope some of the players get noticed. Matt, especially. It's always been his dream to do something like this."

Nat nodded, looking away. If she didn't see Al in the eye, maybe he wouldn't—

"Hey!"

She jerked back—he grabbed her arm again, and she spun up at him, all the turbulent emotions not quite hidden away. Al's eyes widened in realization, and she was shocked by what she saw there.

She saw empathy.

How could he possibly even guess how she was feeling? He couldn't have any idea how it was for her, right now—

_I know. _

Those eyes…how had she missed the strength in them? Why had she only seen what she wanted to?

_My baby brother's going to leave the nest. It hurts me too much to say it._

They were drawing her in, drawing the pain she'd trapped in. Why did it hurt so much?

_But I have to let him go. And…so do you._

It gushed like a tidal wave—Natalia closed her eyes at the onslaught of pain, breaking the moment that seemed like ages. She felt Al pull her back slightly, and then let go of her arm. "Y-You were going to walk into that wall," he muttered. "Pay more attention, Natalia."

Still reeling, she didn't snap or reply sharply. She just nodded, and the two of them walked into the hall. It was painful, standing so close to him, so she stepped away as discreetly as possible. She was in his debt, and being rude was not an option. Looking out for herself was, though.

But what was she looking out from?

She saw the turn to the locker rooms, and walked towards it. Al was about to walk past it, but she grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him in.

"Oh. Thanks."

She muttered something, and let go of his sleeve, walking ahead to the locker room. She turned to Al. "Do you want to go first?"

He smiled at her. "Thank you."

She nodded, and stood back as he called Matt out.

"Hey, broski," Al greeted, and crushed Matt in a hug. Matt was equally strong, so it didn't really make a difference for him. Al leaned back and ruffled his brother's hair. "Funny without a hoodie, don't you think?"

_Hoodie_! Of course! She could give him a hoodie—he was so obsessed with them he wore it even in summer. She could make one for him—Elizabeta kept bugging her to help her with the designing and production, but she'd told her she'd stick to delivery. She'd just have to ask Eliza again.

As she thought about what to do, she watched the brothers interact. Matt laughed, and said something that made Al pout and hit his arm. She, for some reason, couldn't hear what they were saying—it was as if they were in a soundproof bubble, locked away inside from the rest of the world.

It didn't strike her then, but when she would look back at it, a year later, she would realize that it was the last time the three of them stood like that, carefree, excited, happy. That was the key word—happy. They would meet many more times, but for that year, that was the last time all three of them would be happy.

"Natalia?"

Nat snapped out of her meandering thoughts, and the first thing she saw was Matt's expectant face. She walked to him and opened her mouth, not knowing what to say.

Alfred took it as his cue to leave, and after muttering something, he left.

Nat looked up at Matt, who was smiling at her. "Thank you."

"I didn't say anything."

He shrugged, and she narrowed her eyes. "Does wearing that jersey make you cocky, _durak_?"

"They say that captains are supposed to be that way."

She took hold of his large hand. "All the best."

"Thank you."

"Don't lose. I'll hit you if you lose. With my Harley. I'll run you down, I swear"—

Matt swooped down, pressed his lips to hers. Aah. Here, no words were needed. With a small sigh, Nat opened her mouth, and ran her hands into his hair, undoing the kerchief he'd tied his hair back with. He kissed the side of her mouth, groaned softly when she slipped her tongue inside. His hand slipped under, pushed her up to him. Time stopped. She could hear his soft breathing, smell the pine and sweat that was so familiar to her. He ran his tongue on the inside of her cheek; she tasted the sickeningly sweet taste of bubblegum in his mouth. She didn't care. She nipped his lower lip, moaned when his fingers found her sensitive spot to the right of her spine. He pulled on her lips gently, and that made her giggle for some reason. It was infectious; he chuckled, too, and before they knew it, they were laughing, foreheads against each other.

She leaned back, her eyes suspiciously bright. She reached up and hugged him. "You can do it."

He planted a kiss on the underside of her cheekbone. "Thank you."

"I'll be the psychotic woman waving her arms around, threatening to kill you."

He laughed. "I'll look out for you."

She gave him one last squeeze, and leaned back. She took hold of both his hands, and kissed the back of each palm. She looked at him. "Give 'em hell."

He nodded, and kissed her forehead. "I will."

Unwillingly, she let go of his hand, and saw her brother standing there, eyebrow raised. Matt turned, and jumped a feet in the air. "I-Ivan!"

"Coach's calling, comrade," Ivan informed, and Matt gave her a shy grin before gulping nervously and heading inside.

Ivan turned to his little sister, and cleared his throat meaningfully. Nat averted her eyes, blushing. "_Eto grubo_."

"_Net_. It's not rude when I'm looking out for you."

"From Matt?" she asked incredulously.

Ivan shrugged. "I'm your elder brother."

She took his hand and kissed it. "_Delayte vse vozmozhnoye._"

"With a captain like Matthew, I can do nothing but my best, _sestrenka_."

She nodded curtly, and he ruffled her hair. "Hey!" she grumbled.

"_Da_. A girl cares about her hair. _Izvinite._ I liked it better when you had shorter hair."

Her eyes narrowed. "You kicked me out of the house for cutting it off."

He just shrugged. "_Spasibo_."

She nodded, gave his hand one last squeeze. Both of them turned at the same time and walked away, never looking back.

Al joined her at the entrance, holding a _lot_ of food. He passed her two flags. "I'll give you the grub once we sit down"—

"Who says I'm sitting with _you_?"

"I have caramel popcorn."

She rolled her eyes, and he grinned slyly. "I have my sources. Let's go in."

Nat kept her eyes out for Elizabeta.

"Whom are you searching for?"

"Elizabeta."

"They're there."

She looked in the direction he pointed, and turned to him. "Caramel popco—hey!"

She watched as he walked down, and plopped himself right next to Eliza. He turned, and stuck his tongue out at her.

_Ublyudok_…she marched right up, kicked him in his shin, and sat down on the outside seat next to him.

"Umm…hello, kids."

Nat looked around Al, and gave her a small smile. She grinned sweetly at Nat, then turned to Al. "O-ho. Someone's decided to show his face today."

"My little bro's playing, Eliza aunty."

"You two better not start fighting in the middle," Eliza warned.

Nat snorted, and both of them pointed at the other at the same time. "Tell him," she said at the same time as he said, "Tell her." Both of them glared, and Eliza got up. "Nat, come and sit here. Al, move to the side."

"We're not _babies_, Eliza aunty," Al groaned, but still got up.

"You're acting downright spoiled," Eliza said, and sat down where Al was sitting. Nat and Al made a big show of pushing each other, then sat down. Nat leaned to Eliza. "I need your help."

"What can I do?"

"I decided to make a hoodie for Matt." Before Eliza could yell in delight, Nat shushed her. "I want it to be a surprise. That means _that durak_ can't get to know."

"Okay, okay. We'll do it, whether they win or not. But my bet's on them."

"_Spasibo_."

Eliza smiled, and squeezed her hand. "You mustn't take so much of tension for such things. It'll happen, you'll see."

Grateful for her encouragement, Nat turned to the ice.

"Eli!"

Eliza turned, and squealed upon seeing her best friend. "Lissy!" she beamed, and tackled Alice into a hug. Nat and Al watched as they gushed over each other and then they gushed over Francis. Al got up, and Nat followed. He hugged Alice, and grinned as Francis ruffled his hair. Alice came over, and hugged Nat. "Hello, luv. Thanks for the shirt." Alice leaned back, and looked at her red shirt. "I love this colour."

Nat smiled. "I thought you would."

They again got reshuffled, and now Nat was sitting between Alice and Al, with Eliza next to Alice and Francis next to Al. Nat took her packet of popcorn, and began tossing them into her mouth, waiting for everyone to settle down.

"Oi, piece of advice," Al said, leaning over.

"Don't eat and talk."

He swallowed hurriedly. "Have you ever seen a hockey match?"

"_Net_."

"Don't listen to the commentators. Get up when you have to. And ask me if you don't get it."

She wanted to refute the offer, but she was pretty sure she was going to need it. "Hmm."

Al turned and began talking to his dad, and Alice and Eliza were talking to each other. Nat popped the sweet popcorn into her stomach, and nearly choked on one when someone squealed, "Natae!"

She thumped herself on the back, and turned. "Tanusha," she rasped, her eyes watering.

"I was looking all over for you! Let's sit together!"

Before Nat could say anything, Alice invited Tanusha's family to sit with them, and Al whispered, "Natae, huh? I guess I'll call you"—

"I'll choke you with that hot dog, _ublyudok_."

All of them reshuffled again, and Nat was stuck between Tanu and Al, who decided to flirt around her. She rolled her eyes, and jumped to her feet when she saw the players enter. Others did the same, and the cheer as their players entered was deafening. Scottsdale had also come to support their players, and their cheer made up for enthusiasm and rowdy name calling where it didn't for sheer volume.

The players began doing moving around on the rink. Gilbert was a linesman, while Scottsdale had sent Billy Capricorne as linesman and Shawn Brebis as referee. The two captains, Matthew Bonnefoy and Henry Dukardy, greeted the officials and shook hands with each other.

"All the best, Bonnefoy," Dukardy said. "Do well."

Matt instantly liked Dukardy; he was a true sportsman. "It's an honour to be playing with you."

Dukardy laughed. "What are you saying? Besides, I'm going to do my best to kick your arse."

Matt grinned. "Well, tell me when you achieve that."

Dukardy patted Matt on his arm, and sped off around the rink. Matt decided to go around, encouraging everyone on his team with a single nod. He had to be confident—he had to lead his team. It was on him to make sure they did their best. He couldn't hide behind anyone now—the spotlight was on him. And he damned well wasn't going to run from it.

He caught Ivan's eye, and both of them nodded at each other. Ivan was the first person Matt turned to on the ice; next was Diego. The hierarchy was set that way, consciously, unconsciously. And Matt accepted it, and also was quite grateful—Ivan was as much a captain as he was.

Nat watched as all of them lined up, shook hands, and moved to their respective areas on the ice. On the W City team—called the W City Wolves on Gilbert's suggestion—Diego Rodriguez was the goaltender, Ivan Braginsky and Matthew Bonnefoy were defenders and Aryan Sharma, Kiku Honda and Jack Demhall were the forwards.

"You better not give a speech, comrade. Coach Beilschmidt's speech stirred us enough, _da_?" he asked, and even Ludwig nodded.

Matt shook his head. "Look out for each other, and have fun. That's what I want to say."

Ivan smiled. "Let's discuss plays now."

Nat turned to the other side, and tried to read their names on the jerseys as best as she could, but Al beat her to it. "Dukardy, Chien, Agneau, Canard, Poisson and Bison as the goaltender—Dukardy Agneau as defence, and Chien, Canard and Poisson as forwards." Next to him, his father was desperately trying to smother his laughter.

They watched as the others moved towards the benches and sat down. Referee Capricorne went to the centre playoff circle. Chien and Honda decided to take the playoff. The puck was dropped; the game began.

Honda won the playoff, passed it to Demhall. Demhall caught control of the puck, sped towards the goal. He spotted Sharma; passed. The puck rose into the air, and before it could land, Sharma sent it smacking towards the goal.

Save.

At Matt's yell, Demhall had sped forward, but Dukardy slammed into him, throwing him into the boards. Dukardy grabbed control of the puck, moved around behind the goal, and passed it to Chien.

Matt and Ivan got into position, and Honda sped back, followed by Sharma. Pissed, Demhall sped parallel to Chien, saw him get ready to pass to Poisson. He tried to intercept it, but he was too late. By then, the defence was in position, but, then again, so was the offense.

Poisson was speeding across the ice, controlling the puck with amazing technique. He saw Sharma speeding towards him; he mohawked and passed to Canard. Before Canard could get it, however, Matt body checked him, throwing him into the boards, but that wasn't enough. Dukardy sneaked in before anyone could notice, and took aim.

"_Phaaannn_!"

The Scottsdalers thundered as their captain scored the first goal under thirty seconds. Dukardy roared, his bellow soon muffled by his teammates jumping onto him. Matt looked at his team, called them around. "They got a goal in thirty seconds. So what?"

"So what?" Diego asked, incredulous. "Captain, they"—

"We'll score two in the next thirty. What do you say?" he asked, looking around, grinning like a possessed man. His confidence rubbed off on others, and they nodded. He turned to Diego, and flashed him a grin that contained all the sureness in the world, and Diego grinned back. "Yeah, ladies! Let's kick ass!"

Matt caught Ivan rolling his eyes as they moved towards the playoff circle. Honda and Chien again stood for the playoff. Referee Capricorne stood at the faceoff, looked at the outside players, and turned back to the two forwards. He dropped the puck, and the circus began again.

"It's so goddamn fast," Nat whispered, on her feet as she watched them speed across the ice.

"I can't even follow it," Tanu muttered, and saw as the Scottsdale—Scottsdale Falcons—players got on and off the ice. "Is that allowed?"

Al looked at what she was pointing at, and smiled a little. "That's perfectly normal."

"Cricket is so much easier than this," she whispered. "Soccer, even."

Nat didn't even bother, and continued to watch.

Matt sped in with the puck, his handling skills leaving even the Scottsdale side speechless. He manoeuvred right through their box, gritted his teeth and let 'er rip.

_"Phhhaaaan!_"

"Go Matt!" Nat yelled, the rush of emotions bringing goosebumps to her skin. This guy…all the players were jumping onto him, thumping him on his back and patting his cheeks. He laughed, then turned serious and moved back.

"That's risky," Al muttered, and Nat's heart jumped. "What is?"

"He's going to make all three of the forwards try for the puck…that's what it looks like from here. I might be wrong, but…that's dangerous. If they fail, they'll be open."

But the Wolves weren't going to fail. Dukardy was bringing in the puck, but Honda saw through his deke and stole the puck from right under his nose.

"Breakway!" Al whispered excitedly, and explained. "It's like this—no one's between Kiku and the goal now, except the goalkee."

Honda, Sharma and Bemhall started what had become a bit of a legend between the Wolves—their three-man random passes, abbreviated to TRP. They began shooting the puck to each other at random, following no pattern, thoroughly confusing the goaltender while keeping the players from catching up to them. Bemhall passed to Sharma, but Honda intercepted, and put the biscuit in the basket.

"_Phhhhaaan!_"

The roar in the stadium was deafening. The players were jumping on the ice, on each other, and Kiku's equipment saved him from being crushed by his fellow players.

"What did I tell you sickos, huh?" Matt asked, grinning.

"You said thirty. We did it in twenty five," Sharma quipped, out of breath.

"Okay, get off the ice. Put Ludwig, Acharya and Charles"—

"Captain, you're going to have to get off, too," Ivan said as they sped back to defend.

"I'm fine."

Ivan shrugged. "Think about the game, comrade."

Matt turned to Ivan, and flashed him a grin which he'd never seen on the younger man before. "Oh, I'm just getting started, Ivan."

The Falcons had underestimated the Wolves, and they upped their game. Seeing that, Matt's spirits rose even more. _The real game's just starting_.

And he was right.

The next nineteen minutes went in showing the brilliance of their goalkeepers—both large, strong men with an innate love for sweets and a burning desire to win. It was quite poetic, but their play was anything but. Three fights broke out, and the entire of W City—with the exception of Nat—watched as Matt threw himself at the one of the players who'd almost literally flung Ludwig into the boards, and the curse-spewing captain had to be pulled off by Ivan.

"I'm going to fucking break his"—

"Beat the _der'mo_ out of all of them, Cap," Ivan said, quite amused by this snarling figure of their quiet, steady captain. "But right now, get off the ice. You aren't going to able to play now. Move, Cap, before you compromise the game."

With a growl, Matt got out of Ivan's hold, and thundered to the benches, sending Sakurai Takahashi onto the ice.

"Wow," Al whispered.

Nat heard him, and grinned._ Alpha's got bite. _

The bell signalling the end of the twenty minutes rang, and intermission was called. Al leaned over. "You want to get out of here?"

"How long?"

"Fifteen minutes. Unless you want to watch lame stuff and want to sit right here."

"That's mean."

"That's truth."

She sighed, and got up. He got up, and after a word to all of them, the two of them made their way outside.

"Can we go talk to the players now?" Nat asked.

"I think they'll be more focussed on the game now, now that they know how good or bad their opponents are."

"I thought so. What do you think? Falcons or Wolves?"

"Those Scottsdale guys have a ton of experience, Natalia," Al said. "There are some really talented guys here, but those guys have represented this state in the nationals. That's a really big thing. And three of their players are on NHL based contracts, and three more have gone to represent this country. Although guys of that calibre aren't there right now, they coach these guys when they go to Scottsdale to visit."

"I heard Uncle Tino was a pro."

"Both of them—actually, all three of them were pros. Uncle Berwald still is on a contract which he hasn't been able to get out of. Beilschmidt senior went pro when he was around Matt's age, but a guy took a crack at his leg for shooting a hat trick during a match against his town's team. He can play, but his leg troubles him if he plays for longer than ten minutes. And although that's enough, a person with Beil senior's experience…it'll be a waste to make him sit by the side. He's got a lot of names related to lightning and his eyes, but all of them…they all go back to what an utter motivation he is for his team. That guy nearly got killed when Beil senior announced he couldn't play anymore."

"What about uncle Tino?"

Al chuckled in pride. "That guy's a fantastic player. He got emotionally burned out and said 'To hell with all of you'. It was sometime around when his younger sister and her family died in a car crash. He was the fastest sonovagun on the ice. His team persuaded him to play one last game, and this was against the team Uncle Berwald was in. He played, and although he maintained he wanted to quit professionally, he decided to start an ice rink here. His sister lived her. Uncle Berwald and he got married, and Uncle Berwald quit as well. Once in a while, though, he has to go out there and—oh my freaking god."

"What?"

"See those guys there?" he asked, pointing towards a pillar where six men were standing and talking. "Those guys are really big names in hockey. I wish some of our guys catch their attention"—

"The whole team will," Nat said stubbornly. "They're going to win."

Back in the locker room, all of them were getting hell.

"Bonnefoy, this is not a one man game!" Tino yelled. "So you better look at the others when you play, damn you!"

Matt just hung his head in silence.

"Acharya, you're slacking! What was with that defence—all of you! Honda, you're going way too fast for your teammates! Beilschmidt, if you can't shoot, pass it to someone who can! I want a pure game—no stunts, no frills. Do you hear me?"

"Yes Coach!"

Tino sighed. "Having said that, I'm real proud of what you boys did—two goals in twenty five minutes. That's the way to show those birdies what the wolfpack can do."

Matt grinned as the entire team roared.

"Bonnefoy, a minute."

Matt got up, and followed Tino to the side. "This team," Tino said softly. "needs someone with a cool head on their shoulders to lead them. In the game, it's hard—you have people body checking and slamming you everywhere. Once you're revved up, it's assured that the boys will be in the same state of mind."

"They reflect my agitation."

"Exactly. So, this is my advice to you—unless you're cool and composed, don't go on the ice. I can trust Braginsky to act in your stead—he'll be as cool as a cucumber until you step in."

Matt smiled. "Ivan has more restrain than that. He's got a much more sharper head"—

"You can trust each other."

He nodded. "Yes."

"Then I leave it to the two of you. Nice call on that second goal, by the way."

Matt grinned. "Thanks, Coach."

"Now, let's go show them who's boss!" Acharya yelled, and the rest of them roared in agreement.

-x-

"Where were the two of you?" Tanu asked.

"Al saw some really famous ice hockey players and coaches outside, so he was drooling all over them," Nat said. "I was taking pictures for humiliating him later."

"Ha-ha," Al retorted as they sat down. "You're such a douche."

Nat rolled her eyes. "Best you can do?"

"The intermission was quite good, actually," Tanu said. "The choir was singing"—

"Praise be the Lord?" Al asked and Nat smirked.

"No, idiot. They composed their own song, and it was fantastic," Tanu said. "And there were some contests. It was really fun."

Nat glared at Al. "I'm never going to listen to you again."

"You're just saying that," he replied. "And"—

The roar of the crowd drowned out whatever he wanted to say. Flashing a grin at him, she jumped and yelled as well.

"You're doing that on purpose, too."

She stopped momentarily as his whisper played in her ear, his hot breath moving on her skin, raising goosebumps. His hand was on her hip, stopping her from jumping, stopping her from breathing. Abruptly, she gained her wits, and pushed him away, eyes widening when he stuck his tongue out. She glared at him, and left it at that.

Matt, Ivan, James Ferora, Kiku, Ludwig and Diego got on the ice. On the other side, Dukardy led Chien, Damian Leo, Tommy Cheval, Howard Jaguar and Bison. They moved around, and finally moved to the centre playoff circle, Honda and Chien standing for the playoff. It was clearly determined that the two respected and rivalled each other, and there was undoubted competiton between the two of them.

Capricorne dropped the puck. Honda won it this time, passed to Ferora. Ferora moved, passed to Beilschmidt, and they began passing to each other, but the others had caught up with them by the time they got into the attacking zone. Ludwig passed to Braginsky, but Dukardy intercepted and passed it to Leo. Growling, Matt slammed into Leo and tried gaining control over the puck, and in the entanglement of sticks that soon followed, the puck went flying randomly.

Braginsky and Jaguar fought for control, and Ivan had the clever idea of flashing a chilly smile towards Jaguar. The man shuddered; Braginsky grabbed the puck and let 'er rip.

He already knew it was going to be a miss; his angle was off. Still, the puck moved deeper into the attacking zone, and it was a matter of chasing it now. Braginsky sped, but didn't even see Cheval slamming into him.

Matt sped to where Ivan was, and titled his face. "Ivan! Ivan! Are you fine?"

Blood trickled from his nose which Ivan quickly rubbed off. Matt quickly held up three fingers. "How many?"

Ivan blinked. "Three, but it looks like four."

"Fucking bastards…" Matt rose, but he was too late—his team was already fighting against the Falcons like a bunch of bloody bar brawlers. He was so goddamn angry…but Ivan needed him. "Oi, comrade," Matt said quietly. "Are you"—

"Let me through," Anna Cook, the on-ice doctor from Scottsdale, moved to Ivan and checked him for injuries. "Let's get you off the ice, lad." Matt helped him up, and took him to their benches.

Capricorne called the fowl, and put Cheval on the penalty bench for five minutes with no substitute. Tino called for a timeout, and drew his players in.

"Guys, Braginsky's going to be fine—he needs a few minutes to put his head back in place, that's all," Tino said, looking at the murderous face of his players, all except Matt. "Honda, you come out. Sharma boys, you're going in. They're shorthanded, and they've lost one of their most aggressive players. Except for Dukardy, all of them are aggressive. Aryan, you're fast—you know what to do. Acharya, stick with Matt. And for crying out loud, do not let them get the biscuit in! Clear?"

"Yes Coach!"

Matt slid off to centre ice, and looked at his team. "We're on the aggressive, too. Let's show them what this wolfpack's all about."

All of them grinned belligerently, and moved to the playoff circle in the attacking zone. Aryan took the playoff against Chien. Nobody on Scottsdale knew how Aryan played, so when the lithe Indian turned aggressive, it was a shocker. Aryan snatched the puck from right under Chien's nose, and passed it to Ludwig. Ludwig took a shot, missed. Ferora, waiting for the rebound, passed it to Aryan, but he got covered by Leo at that very moment. Dukardy, a true Falcon, swooped in from practically nowhere and grabbed control of the puck. Pissed, Matt gave him chase, and it was easy, since Matt was the more agile once.

He stuck his stick in, and tried to grab the puck from him, but Dukardy's control was supreme. Matt just decided to wing it in, and struck randomly, sending the puck sliding off to the side. Even as the two of them watched, Acharya swept in, gave them both a cheeky grin, spun around them and sped off towards the attacking side.

Laughing incredulously, both Dukardy and Matt gave chase.

Acharya sped, passed to Ludwig, and there began what the Wolves called the 'Pinball Phenomena'—the puck moving wildly, furiously between players at random, made even more difficult for the Falcons to spot since they were shorthanded and couldn't defend everyone at the same time. Matt grinned inwardly.

Tino was going to fucking skewer them.

Ludwig moved from behind the goal, received the puck, and passed it quite openly to Leo. Leo was so stunned he actually yelled when Aryan stole it and shot the puck right in.

_"Phhhhannn!_"

Laughing diabolically, Aryan raised his head and actually howled before his teammates caught up with him and jumped all over him.

Next to Nat, Al was laughing and swearing all at the same time. "This team is nuts," he said, and yelled.

Nat grinned. She didn't know much about ice hockey, but she knew this wasn't anybody's idea of normal play.

The Falcons called a timeout, and Matt gulped. Tino was going to fry them and chop them into little, little pieces. Thankfully, the timeout was short enough for Tino to be cut short in his tirade, but Matt realized that they'd stocked back on players again.

And they all looked like mercenaries.

The next fifteen minutes were tight—Matt watched as his soaring teammates were put back on the ice as Dukardy cut right through their defence, and shot right in, with an assist from Jaguar. Sobered, the Wolves strengthened their guard, and went all out—but Bison was huge as he was talented, and he didn't let the puck get past him another time. Three times they tried, and three times they failed—before Leo got hold of the puck and made for a breakaway. All of them chased furiously, but Leo was on a roll—he tried once, missed, tried again, and roared at the sound of the horn.

Although the wolves won the playoff, the bell signalling the end of the second period brought them to a stop right in front of the goal in the attacking zone.

Matt hustled his cursing team members back to the bench, more worried about Ivan that where the game was going to go in the upcoming third period. He sighed in relief as he saw the colour come back in his comrade's face. "You alright?" he asked.

Ivan grinned wearily. "Just about. Nice game."

Matt snorted, and Tino had the same opinion. But he was hell more vocal about it.

"I shall tell this to you for the last time, ladies," Tino warned. "This isn't a bloody movie choreographed where you're assured your win. This is a game. If you fail right at the stepping stone, you're going to fall into the deep, murky waters, and god knows how long it'll take you to get out. Get serious, ladies. We're aiming to drag them in the dust—if you aren't, the bench's always there for you. Are you serious?"

"Yes Coach!"

Nat got up, and moved out of the stands and into the open. She heard them play 'Gentleman' by PSY, and grinned. She knew a guy—and a girl—who could move to that.

She settled down into one of the chairs they'd set up, and thought about designing the hoodie, but the game kept flashing before her eyes. That, and Yong Soo's dancing to Gentleman with Lili. Curious, she got up, and stuck her head in.

Yep, Yong Soo was dancing on the ice.

That guy was an unbelievably good dancer, and he took classes for it, too. His life was booked—between University, dance classes and helping out at the restaurant, he didn't have time to breath. But whatever he did, he did it cheerfully, and at that moment, he was dancing with a bevy of really beautiful women.

Suddenly, the music changed to Thriller, and everyone roared. Yong Soo grabbed hold of the mic, and spoke rather breathlessly. "How 'bout we all dance? Come on, don't be shy—up on your feet, everyone! Da-ze!" he yelled. "Now, just do what I do, 'kay? It's easy."

Nat grinned and got in. Yong Soo was also a fantastic teacher, and his easy grin and good looks all played on his charisma. And when he asked the audience to sing along, the roar didn't really surprise Nat—he could get all of them to sit, stand, shake hand and play dead as easy as pie.

_As horror looks you right between the eyes_

_You're paralyzed._

_'Cause this is thriller_

_Thriller at night_

Al turned, and saw her there. He gestured her to join him, but she shook her head. He moved past his dad, and bounded up the steps to her. "Come on, Nat. This is fun."

She laughed, watching the others dance. "No way." She doubled over with laughter when Al did the 'Thriller Move', and he pouted. "I'm a good dancer, 'kay?"

Nat rubbed the tears from her eyes. "I didn't mean that. Everyone's doing it"—

"Except you. Come on. _'Cause this is thriller_…na-na-na—Come on Nat."

Nat rolled her eyes, and raised her hands. "Can't do this."

"Do what everyone else is doing. Please, Nat."

She tried, but shook her head, embarrassed. By then, the song was done, and everyone was applauding each other.

"Aw, Natalia," Al groaned, but smiled at her. "Come on, let's go sit."

"I don't do dancing, Jones."

"Well…neither do I, but it's fun. Hey, dad."

"Where were you two?" Alice asked. "Good Lord, that's the most fun I've had in a while."

Al and Nat went to their seats, and sat down. "I wanted some air," Nat said. "Then I heard the singing."

"You should've run away while you could," Eliza commented, and turned to Alice. "You still sing off key"—

"But I have more fun than those who sing properly!" Alice said. "I want another one!"

They watched Yong Soo and his troupe dance to Hips Don't Lie—everyone started yelling for that one, and all the ladies started singing—a Spanish piece and Black or White, again by Michael Jackson. For all the enthusiasts, however, fifteen minutes was up, and they had to bid farewell to their hot Korean instructor and his troupe—harem, according to Francis—of female dancers.

The men were back on the ice, and another kind of enthusiasm filled the stands. People now clearly had favourites, and they began cheering for their players.

The lineup this time was Aryan Sharma, Ferora, Bemhall, Bonnefoy, Braginsky and Rodriguez for the Wolves, and Poisson, Canard, Chien, Dukardy, Leo and Bison for the Falcons.

The players assembled at the centre playoff circle. Aryan stood before Chien for the faceoff, and Capricorne came to them with the puck. Aryan looked up, his black eyes glinting with belligerence, looking at the ruthlessness in those amber eyes.

Capricorne held the puck out, and dropped it.

And there began the final period.

* * *

**A/T: In French, Billy Capricorne becomes 'Billy Goat' and Shawn Brebis becomes 'Shawn (the) Sheep.' Get it? No? And everyone in Scottsdale has the surname of an animal (except for Dukardy, I made that up). Chien, Agneau, Poisson, Canard, Bison—Dog, Lamb, Sheep, Duck, and Bison. Reminds me of 'Old McDonald had a farm'. Well, it's in Scottsdale, just so you know. And Old McDonald's French, somehow. :\**

**I was so disgusted with the last chapter I didn't even want to write a bloody A/T in the beginning…I didn't like it one bit.**

**I'd like to think I've gotten better at this ice-hockey match writing thing…what do you think?**

**I felt like cramming everything into one, but my word count went over 6500, and I went wtf? So, last period's coming next. Hope you liked this one!**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	26. Chapter 17: The Match part 2

**A/T: Went and hung out with my besties—actually, Radium was my only 'bestie' bestie there, but they're still all my besties. They gave me a birthday partay! This has GOT to be the best birthday ever, because—**

**1. I wrote like a maniac.**

**2. I had holidays before and after my b'day.**

**3. I got amazing reviews that totally made my birthday stretched over a week.**

**4. Scarlett wrote a story for me. ****_Me_****. As a birthday gift. For me. '**Not Feeling Himself'**.**

**5. Jani gave me two amazing pics as a birthday gift. ****_Two_****. **

**6. My parents got me a trilogy.**

**7. My besties gave me another trilogy. (Hunger Games)**

**8. And, finally, I had a SURPISE BIRTHDAY party (which Radium un-surprised by not being able to hide the cake…but it was awesome.)**

**So, this week has been the BEST in my short, sweet life. Thank you all, for the best sweet 16 ever!**

**And psychopathicXangel, THANKU for the review!**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 17

Three each.

They planned on changing that.

The Hawks won the playoff. Chien passed it to Poisson. Poisson sped across the ice, sensed Braginsky coming to steal. He mohawked twice, dodging Braginsky's stick, and shot it to Dukardy.

Matt covered Dukardy, and didn't bother intercepting—as long as he was on Dukardy, he would wait for the puck to reach them. Matt didn't see Dukardy's deke, but wasn't too off—he gave chase as Dukardy escaped his guard, and moved behind the puck. Knowing Matt was on his tail, Dukardy passed it to Leo.

Leo marched in, with Aryan and Ferora trying to steal it from him. The clatter of hockey sticks was loud, and in the confusion, Leo pushed Ferora away only to have the puck stolen by Aryan. Aryan spun and shot in the opposite direction, passing to Bemhall, who'd stayed in the attacking zone the entire time.

_Breakaway_, Aryan thought gleefully, but his glee was cut short when Chien zoomed in from nowhere, and got between him and the goalkee. Aryan hurried over, as did all the others, and received the pass from Bemhall. He moved as quickly as he could, and when he saw Poisson hurrying over, he aimed for rebounding it on the boards to move it behind the goal. He struck it hard, and felt a glimmer of satisfaction when it moved the way he wanted it to. He moved, and saw spots when Poisson crashed into him, sending them both to the boards.

Dukardy sped over and grabbed control of the puck, moving behind the net. The Wolves fell back, the Hawks closed in. Dukardy moved around the goal and moved quite leisurely across the neutral ice, looking at all his openings. Chien sped over, and the puck was exchanged. Dukardy fell back, and Chien let 'er rip towards Canard, who caught it, sneaked through and sent it to Poisson.

Poisson shot the puck towards the goal, but Diego saved it. Canard caught the rebound, and sent it flying again.

"What the hell is this? Free for all?" Nat growled as the Hawks positioned themselves and took shot after shot. "What the hell are the Wolves doing?"

"It must be scary, being the goalkee, surrounded like that by five people who keep trying to hit you," Tanu commented. "If it was me, I would've sat down and screamed, just because of the tension."

"I would've killed them all," Nat said.

Matt finally managed to snatch the control of the puck from Canard, and let it fly across the ice. The Hawks stopped calling it a bad move on the captain's part when they saw Honda, having stepped in for Bemhall, race behind. With an oath, all of them raced to defend their half, while the Wolves closed in for the kill.

Honda took aim, and fired just as Chien caught up to him. The groans from the W City side filled the stadium as it hit the red frame of the goal and bounced off. Honda moved for the puck, but Chien and Poisson effectively trapped him in the space behind the goal, both moving in from either side. After spending two minutes and fifty seconds trying to get past both of them, he looked up and saw Matt's face. What he read on his face was simple.

Honda rumbled within and pushed right through Poisson, the less larger of the two evils, and let the puck flying away from him, still seeing stars.

Braginsky sped towards it, and caught control, but Poisson was heading towards him, so he mohawked, searching for anyone who was open.

Nobody.

With a growl, he himself went for it, but didn't count on Poisson crashing into him, knocking both of them right off their feet.

He saw black for the strangest amount of time—he didn't even know how long—and suddenly things snapped into clarity, and he founded himself sitting on his _zadnitsa_, blinking rather bewilderedly. He'd lost consciousness, but the game had just moved for five seconds.

He got up, and saw the puck under Canard's control. He fell back to his zone, unaware that his head wound had opened. He stood in his position, feeling a rush in his body that didn't quite feel like the adrenaline he had been experiencing ever since the beginning of the third period. He looked at the clock. Somehow, they had eleven more minutes to go. Strange. It felt like a lifetime.

Those eleven minutes were filled with groans from both sides, as every goal the other tried to take was stopped before it could cross the line. The game was edgy, with both sides three all, but nobody seemed to be making a goal.

And nobody seemed to be noticing the blood slowly trickling down Ivan's face and staining the neck of shirt.

The three officials called overtime, and Matt made a tired and dazed Honda leave. He turned to Ivan to ask him something, but turned deathly pale.

Ivan frowned. "What is it?"

"Your jersey—it's completely stained."

Ivan shrugged. "_Da_. That happened quite some time back."

"Ivan, did you get the wound stitched?"

He clicked his tongue. "I asked the doctor to bandage it until the match's"—

Their one minute was up, and the five minutes overtime started.

Nat saw her brother's stained shirt, and pushed past Al and Francis to stand out. Four steps down, she saw Chun-Yan emerge as well.

"_Mon ami, _what is it?" Francis asked her.

She shook her head absently, looking as her brother zoomed across the ice. Was he happily unaware, or did he know half of his shirt was red, and was continuing to grow red? "Why is he still playing?"

"Who, _cher_?" Francis asked, getting up and standing next to her.

"Ivan. His shirt's"—

"He's wounded."

"Must've been that foul in the second period," Al commented.

"Why is his shirt so red?" Nat whispered. At that moment, Chun-Yan turned and saw her standing there. She walked up as Nat walked down, and they met somewhere in the middle. "Can you see that?"

"It was that foul, aru_,_" Chun-Yan commented. "But it shouldn't have been so red, aru. Something's wrong."

"Can we stop the game?" Nat asked.

"They'll kill you, aru," Chun-Yan whispered half-heartedly. She wanted to go running to the ice, and take Ivan to the first hospital in sight. What the hell was going on? Why were they all blind?

"This isn't possible. Someone must've seen it—this game's screwed up. Why aren't they doing anything?" Nat growled.

"Make a call, dammit!" Chun-Yan muttered angrily, looking at the officials. Gilbert knew something was wrong. Why wasn't he stopping the overtime? Ivan wasn't moving as steadily, but his goddamn helmet—"_Zhè shì gǎo zále_!" Chun-Yan cursed.

On the ice, Ivan was feeling ridiculously dizzy. To him, there were twenty two people on the _porklyatiye_ ice, excluding himself. They seemed to be everywhere. The puck slid towards him, and out of reflex, he caught control, and mindlessly moved towards the opponent's goal. His vision was sharpening and clearing quite alarmingly. And that was when he felt a new spurt of blood.

He was bleeding himself dry.

It felt as if he was on a breakaway. His jersey was dark blue, his blood would be indistinguishable. He didn't think they were moving aside to let him go, make a goal, and then discount it on account of injury. He would kill them all if they were. He heard the swish of blades behind him before his hearing became obscured for an indistinguishable period of time. He wasn't alone. Good. He looked before him, and saw two players before. _Yebat' ikh_. Fuck them all. He was going to get that goal. He was going to do it.

His vision suddenly sharpened to bright clarity. He could see all the openings that Bison had. He could see it all. Thanking whoever was up there, he let the puck fly.

He was out before he hit the ground, before the horn blared.

"_Brat_!"

Katyusha's horrified scream broke the deathly silence, and she desperately hurried through the crowd to get out to the steps. Nat snapped out of it first, and pushed through the crowd to get to her sister. Chun-Yan just stood there, a million thoughts zooming in her head, all incoherent, all booming the same thing, a mangle of senselessness.

"_Sestra_! _Sestra_!"

That snapped her out of it, and she realized what exactly Nat was trying to do. She hurried through the path that was being covered rapidly by people, and flew down the steps, just as Nat was.

She ran by Nat. "Cover the entrance!" Nat yelled. Chun-Yan pushed through the people and began jumping over the last rows of seats before leaping before the door, stopping Katyusha bang in her path.

"Wang, _otoyti ot dveri_," Katyusha warned and yelped when Nat caught her, locking her arms underneath Kat's underarms, holding her back.

"_Setra_, you can't go there"—

"_Moy brat krov'_! _On sobirayetsya_"—

"Nothing's going to happen to him," Nat assured, tightening her hold against her struggling sister. "They're taking him away now. They're going to heal him"—

"_Khochu videt' moyego brata!_ _Ya_"—

"You can't do anything," Nat whispered harshly. "That's ice—you'll slide and fall and be of no use to him. Calm down, _sestra_. Please."

Kat stopped struggling, and Nat could feel the stirrings of despair well up in her again. But before she could let go of her sister, she heard someone call out, "Nat, this way!"

All three of them turned, and saw Peter holding a door open. They ran towards it; Peter waited until all three of them got in before shutting and locking it. "Follow me," he said, and they ran through the corridor. It wasn't very long, and they got to the infirmary before they knew it.

"He's alright," Berwald said, getting up as soon as he saw all three women. "He's alright n'w. He's l'st blood, but he's f'ne n'w."

Nat felt ridiculously calm. She was, as compared to both Kat and Chun-Yan, who were both dazed and lost. "Will we have to donate?"

"No, it's n't th't severe. He's f'ne." Looking at the disbelieving looks he got from all of them, he tried to assure them, but none of them were buying it. Nat and Chun-Yan sat Kat down, then took seats to either side, comforting each other. Nat got up, feeling like breaking something or someone. As she thought about it, her anger grew and grew, and when Matt walked into the room, only the fact that he still had his helmet on stopped her from breaking his nose.

"You call yourself captain and you let a comrade bleed on your own turf?" she whispered harshly, growing angrier when she saw the shame in his eyes. "You worthless, spineless fool."

Kat was too busy worrying about her brother, but Chun-Yan heard her. "Nat"—

"You knew he was bleeding. And yet you…I care about you a damned lot, Matthew, but it all comes down to nothing when you make a bad call that affects my brother."

He knew. He understood. He knew all along. "I'm"—sorry didn't cut it, he knew that, too. "I wasn't thinking straight."

"Nat, it's not his fau"—

"Damn right it is!" Nat yelled, spinning on Chun-Yan. "If he had even an iota of common fucking sense, he would've realized that the man standing _right next to him_ was ble"—

"You think I didn't notice?"

Matt hadn't raised his voice but, as his tone cut through Nat's tirade, she wished he had. "You think I didn't know? You think I didn't try, Nat?"

"Then why"—

His icy blue eyes were more lethal than if his large hands had gone around her throat to snap it like a toothpick. "Don't accuse me of not doing something—I care about your brother more than you can imagine. So don't you _dare_ tell me I don't care."

Nat gulped involuntarily. There was the violence he kept under thick wraps. She watched as Matt removed his helmet, threw it to the side and barged into the infirmary, where Ivan was being treated. With a growl aimed at somebody—herself or Matt, she didn't know—she followed Matt in but ended up walking into his back. He turned around, and she saw that the anger had died from his eyes. "_Izvinite_."

He knew she truly meant it when she said it in her native tongue. He removed one of his gloves, and placed his hand on her head, drawing her close to his side, holding her there. "He's going to be fine. He just lost a lot of blood."

"You shouldn't have let him play, Bonnefoy."

This came from the medic, Anna Cook, who was busy stitching up his wounds. "His head was just beginning to clot. But I can't blame you—you couldn't see much under the helmet, and he didn't tell you anything." She looked at Matt, her eyes turning frosty. "Assuming you didn't know he asked me not to stitch it up but just bandage it lightly?"

"It was too late by the time I knew."

She just turned around, and began working on Ivan. "Done. He'll be up in an hour or"—

"_Ey, krasavitsa_."

"As your doctor, I order you go back to being unconscious," Anna said. "And don't you dare try your smooth talk on me."

"Ah…a woman immune…to my charm," Ivan said slowly. "How fascinating." Nat hurried over to his side, and he turned to her. "Natalia…you have to try being unconscious," he said. "It's quite fun."

"_Udaryu vas_," she growled. "I will hit you very hard, brother."

He grinned as cheekily as he could manage, but opened his eyes when Kat and Chun-Yan rushed in.

"Family reunion much?" Anna asked, standing next to Matt as the three women cooed and reprimanded Ivan at the same time. Matt gave a soft grunt, walked to the bed, not noticing as the ladies let him through. "If you so much as dream of playing that stunt while I'm on the team, Braginsky, I will make you into that piroshky stuffing you seem to like so much and feed you to Ludwig's dogs. Do you understand?"

Ivan sobered. "_Da,_ Captain."

He sighed. That done, he turned to leave. "Now, get well soon so that I can beat you up for making me worry." He didn't notice the four unhinged jaws as he walked past their owners. Ivan wasn't particularly surprised—when Matt became Captain Bonnefoy, it wasn't just the name that changed.

But Ivan knew just how much it must've killed him inside, to see his teammate lying on the ice in a growing pool of blood. He knew the feeling all too well. "Matthew, comrade?"

Matt turned.

"_Spasibo._"

Matt just sighed, flashed him a small smile, and went to fight the battles he'd put on hold.

-x-

When Matt walked back onto the ice, there was muted applause. He moved to where the Officials and Dukardy were standing, and gave a curt nod to both. "He's alright. Just lost a bit of blood, and most of his common sense."

"Did you know?" Brebis asked him curtly. Dukardy tried to step in, but Matt was holding his ground just fine. "With all respect, I might be new to this stage, sir, but I'm not new to my position. I don't make a point of making calls which harms my team."

Dukardy turned to Matt as the Officials discussed. "How bad is it?"

Matt shrugged. "He was awake when I last saw him. According to the medic, he doesn't need any blood—just a couple of stitches and some rest."

"What's the plan after this?" Dukardy asked, and Matt blinked at him. "Huh?"

"If you win, if you lose—after that, what?"

Matt thought. "Well, either way, we've got ten matches with all the other big and small cities in the state. If we win this, well…it'll be quite incredible."

Dukardy grinned knowingly. "Winning the first match always means complications." He looked at Matt, and knew he could keep his team grounded.

"Well, I'm not sure I'm up for celebration. Maybe after Ivan's better. What about you?"

"Something like yours, only we're going to be trying to catch the eyes of certain kingpins."

Matt saw in Dukardy's eyes that he didn't approve. "Hard to lose members?"

He sighed. "Happens every year. Just can't get used to it."

Matt nodded, and turned to the Officials.

"Well, let's look at Rule 8, then," Capricorne said, tired of discussing the exact time of the injury with his fellow Officials. "8.1, to be precise. Unless the injured player's team is in a scoring position, the game can be stopped as soon as the same team is in possession of the puck."

"But that's only applicable when we've recorded when the player was injured," Gilbert said. "Only after the player has been visibly injured, the game can be stopped as soon as his team has the possession."

"That'll take us all the way to the second period," Matt commented. "But his wound was bandaged."

"So that means it must've opened sometime during the third period or overt"—

Capricorne interrupted Dukardy. "We're having this conversation for the fourth time. It just comes down to whether that goal is acceptable or not."

Matt felt Dukardy pleading to him silently to keep his mouth shut, so he did that.

"If it did happen in third period, say," Brebis said. "That would mean that he shouldn't have been allowed to play in the overtime. And if it happened in the overtime…either way, that goal is blank."

"Assuming it happened in the overtime," Gilbert quickly stepped in, "would mean we would have to restart the overtime again."

"No matter what happened"—

Capricorne held up a hand to stop Matt. "Either way," he said, "it is due to our negligence that you've lost a member of your team as well as the goal he scored. This sure is strange," he said, rubbing his goatee. "Let's run overtime again, going with Coach Beilschmidt's assumption."

Matt nodded, and he and Dukardy shook hands. They had nothing more to say to each other; only to go back on the ice and play. Matt went back to his team, and turned to Tino. "We're playing overtime again."

Tino took it in his stride. "Let's discuss plays now." None of them complained, and patiently listened to what Tino had to say. In the end, Tino turned to Matt. "You should sit down, Matt. You played all three quarters and overtime."

Matt smiled bitterly. "Didn't make any difference," he whispered to himself, and turned to Ludwig, the Sharma brothers, Ferora and Graye, who was their second goaltender. "Don't take this as something to avenge. No matter what happens now, Ivan's goal's always going to be there. If it's not there on the scoreboard, it doesn't mean it didn't happen. There's nothing to prove here. Wolves, do you understand me?"

He watched as they all nodded. "Play your best game. Do what you do best. And get into a few fights, too," Matt said, and grinned at his smiling teammates. "Cheer up, guys. Win or lose in this game, it doesn't matter. We're always winners. You ladies better believe that."

"Yes Captain!"

Matt extended his hand. "Put it all in, ladies." All the players, both on and off the ice, placed their hands one atop the other. "On three," Tino said.

"One, Two, Three—Go Wolves!"

Matt sat back, and watched. Even Dukardy and Bison weren't there—the Hawks' lineup was Canard, Poisson, Chien, Cheval and their new goalkeeper, Phacochère. Watching Cheval, Matt knew it was wrong to think of it, and extremely unprofessional—Ivan would burst out laughing if he knew Matt was having such thoughts.

Between the Sharma brothers, Ferora and Ludwig, Matt wanted Cheval to be cut down into tiny, tiny pieces.

-x-

"_Phhhhaaaan_!"

Matt couldn't help but laugh when he saw the extra point being added. He laughed at the shocked silence, he laughed at the face Dukardy was making. He laughed because he didn't know what else he could possibly do. He was glad he gave that speech, because the one he'd prepared otherwise—the one about making Ivan's goal count—would've truly dragged their self-esteem through the dust.

The Hawks had won.

He let those tears slip through, then wiped them off quickly. He could wallow in his grief later—right now, he needed to be a rock for the others who had all their intense, three-minute ice-hockey play thrown right back into their faces. So, even though he felt like absolute shit, he jumped over the bund and landed on the ice, hugging each and every one of his five battered soldiers who'd played extremely well. They needed him more than he needed himself, and with needs stacked up like that, he didn't have the right to cry.

"You guys did well," Tino assured each player. "You got it to a draw, all on your first mat"—

He was interrupted by the clatter of hockey sticks. They all turned, and watched as the Hawks hit the end of their sticks on the ice again and again. The ones on the benches emerged, increasing the volume of the commotion as they got on the ice.

"If they don't stop that," Matt wheezed out. Diego came and stood next to him, smiling knowingly. He rested his hand on Matt's head. "You can cry all you want, _amigo_. You're a winner."

He punched Diego's arm lightly, choking on his own laughter. "Fuck you, Diego."

"Fuck you right back, Captain. Let's get this over with, and we can enjoy ice-cream, porn and a good dose of male eye-sweating."

Matt laughed at that. His eyes stung, his throat was clogged and his inner ear hurt like mad, but he laughed. The rest of his team looked at him, and he smiled. "Let's go thank them for the good game, yes?"

They all nodded and followed their captain, none of them saying a word about the teardrop that was rolling down his cheek.

* * *

Matt blearily opened his eyes, wondering what it was that had awakened him from a sleep that seemed to be drugged. First, the entire match had played in some random sequence, but at least it had been factual. Then, suddenly, there were squids, eels and tentacles…he didn't even want to question the technicalities of his dream. Finally, when it had all died down and gone black, he'd dropped himself into the kind of sleep resembling that of the dead.

He rubbed his eyes, and turned on the dim overhead light. He yawned, and switched on the brighter tubelight, rubbing his face. He looked at the side of the bed, and saw the tub of chocolate ice cream he'd managed to nab from the Cuban. He could ditch the porn and the eye-sweating, but he couldn't ditch the chocolate ice-cream.

He picked it up, and saw he'd finished half of the tub. He'd give the rest to Al—he didn't feel like eating any more chocolate. He wanted something lighter, like lemon gelato. It wouldn't hurt to make Al to go to the elder Vargas's shop and get him a tub of that.

Speaking of Alfred, he was having a yelling match with someone who wasn't yelling. He knew who it was before he could even ask himself. Yawning, he opened the door, and walked to the stairwell, looking down to see who it was.

"Nat."

She looked up, and he watched as her features softened when she saw him. Those same eyes hardened as she sneered at Al and moved past him and up the stairs. "Hey."

She smiled. "Hi." She walked past him and into his room—one of the pluses of being somewhere between his best bud and his girlfriend—and Mat followed her. She was making his bed, then jumped onto it and patted the place next to her, asking him to sit.

He just sighed, smiling inwardly. She didn't find anything strange about inviting him to sit on his own bed, then move to quickly gobble up his tub of ice-cream as neatly as she could. Matt sat down next to her, and she set the tub down on the ground next to her side of the bed. She turned to face him, legs crossed. "Brother's fine…we've brought him home, and he's been recommended to stay in bed for the next two days. Chun-Yan came over when we told her he wasn't listening—I'm pretty sure she's used some ancient Chinese technique to tie him up."

"Hey…"

"I'm glad, actually. Her siblings moved over as well—we're all living under the same roof now."

He smiled. "Bound to be noisy."

She rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

Conversation exhausted, they pondered as the silence grew awkward.

"Nice game."

Matt smiled a little. "It was a great first game. It was easier, since most of us were a part of the school hockey team. Jakey K. used to be our captain."

"You mean Mr _Mudak_ of the century?"

Matt laughed. "You used to beat him up regularly."

"He used to bully you."

"Well, most first games end up in zeros for the beginner team, and we got a good number of goals on them. Now I can count on the guys to at least stay"—

She straddled him, and hugged him into her body, embracing him into her warmth and comfort. "The one day I let you act like a _mal'chik_, Matt, you start acting all grown up." She felt him tentatively wrap his arms around her, and rest his head against the mound of her breasts. "According to me, the game was wrapped up the instant brother scored a goal. Technicalities don't make winners. Heart does. And you, _moya dorogaya_, have the biggest heart there is."

"_Merci_."

She smiled as she stroked his head comfortingly. "Don't thank me just yet, _mal'chik_. There's a long way to go. And I'll always be here."

He tightened his hold on her, burying his senses into her warmth and fragrance. The scent of her was so soothing, so comforting…he could drown in it peacefully.

He didn't know when he fell asleep, but she did. When his breathing evened, she moved back a little and lay him down on the bed. She got off him, placed a kiss on his forehead, and took the tub of chocolate ice-cream with her on her way out, closing the door softly behind her. It didn't really matter, though—he was too deep asleep.

Nat walked down the stairs, straightening her clothing. She saw Al sitting in front of the telly, changing channels in the irritating male fashion that seemed to be hardwired into every one of their kind. He looked up, and saw her. "Took long enough."

"I was doing nasty things to your little brother with…this," she said, holding up the tub of ice-cream.

"Is that chocolate?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

She took one last spoonful, and handed him the tub as she put the ice-cream in her mouth.

"It's all runny," Al complained, and Nat smiled smugly. "Just the way I like it." She flung the spoon at him. "Where is mama Alice and papa Francis?"

"Out shopping. Dad went to buy groceries, and mum's gone to get a farewell present for Matt."

"What about you?"

Al smiled. "Mine's already made."

Which reminded her that she had to get to making hers. "I'm leaving. Tell them I said hi."

"Good night," he said, his mouth full.

Muttering something about disgusting manners, Nat left the house.

She had work to do.

* * *

"Good morning, dad," Matt said, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he walked in.

Francis looked up. "_Bonjour_."

"Don't you have to go to work?"

Francis smiled. "Thought I'd enjoy breakfast with you, _mon fils_. Besides, Natalia's offered to take care of the restaurant until I come by."

Matt looked at the clock—09:47 a.m. He dug into the pancakes his father had made, chewing slowly. His father poured coffee into two mugs, and handed one to Matt.

"_Merci._"

Francis nodded. "Do you want to come by around the shop today? We'd be delighted to have you. Especially Nat—Al's getting on her nerves."

Matt grinned as he shoved in another forkful, and shook his head. He swallowed it down, and said, "Thanks, papa. I don't think I could."

Francis nodded. "That was quite…idiotic of me, as your mother would say."

"She'd add 'bloody' and 'wanker' in there somewhere, too."

Francis grinned. "She would, no? I'm proud of you, Matt."

The fork stilled. "I lost yesterday, papa. You know"—

"Matthew, you didn't"—

"No, papa, it wasn't the goals, or the decisions the Officials took—it wasn't even the Hawks. Dukardy actually asked me to share a cup of coffee with him sometime so that we could talk—his mother owns a small bistro of sorts. It was me, papa. Do you know"—Matt dropped the fork entirely and turned to look at his father—"do you know that I lost the will to lead them into the second overtime? That I felt—screw you all, I don't care about any of this anymore? I felt that way, papa. _Me._ I'm supposed to be a captain—I have to lead them, papa, not feel as if the last five minutes of the game don't matter a damn's worth to anyone. They disregarded the goal that Ivan scored, papa—he was bleeding, and he knew he was going to fall, but he still got that goal in, and they said it didn't count, because according to the rules, he wasn't supposed to be on the ice. How the _hell_ can they do that, _dammit_?"

Francis watched as his son buried his face in his hands. He continued to speak in a softer tone. "I'm not cut out for this, papa. I made a bad call, and my team had to suffer for that."

Francis smiled at his son. He dragged his chair closer, and ran his fingers through his son's hair. "The very fact that you're still thinking of your team makes you captain, Matthew." Francis paused, searching for the right words. "I can't tell you much about making a bad call—I've made too many of them in my time. I've hurt numerous people. I can't tell you how many times I've hurt your mother, before and after we got married. All because I couldn't make the right decision for _her_. I kept thinking about others, about me, but never about her. But, son, you never stopped thinking about your teammates. You still haven't."

His son wasn't convinced. Francis sighed. "Your mother taught me, Matthew, that although we can't change a bad decision by making a good one, we can set it to rights. And if we can't do that, also, we can always learn to make a better decision. It might've been a bad call, yes, but Matthew, you never let them down."

Francis watched, the entire time, as his son's breathing grew shallow and shuddered.

"But I let myself down, papa."

Francis smiled as he drew his son's head to his shoulder. "That you can always change, son," he whispered, running his hand through Matt's hair. "That you can always change."

He might've given up the porn and the eye-sweating for the ice-cream, but even that couldn't comfort Matt as much as crying his heart out on his father's shoulder did.

Sometimes, even men had to cry.

* * *

**A/N: All the mistakes in the interpretation of the rules of ice-hockey are mine—it's NOT the real thing, people. I mean it, seriously, so don't think it's legit. R. K. Iris's version of ice-hockey is NOT legitimate—it is her half-arsed interpretation of what is actually happening. Remember that, people.**

**I actually wanted to make the Wolves win, but after watching the movie '**Girdiron Gang**', I realized that the fact that the scores were 3 all was itself a big thing. So when I somehow got the big chance…nobody ever wins right on their first go. I know that for a fact—I lost the first debate I went to, and I also failed in my first attempt to direct a show. Although I didn't go for another debate, my second attempt to direct a show was quite good. Just know that you can't win right off the bat, and those who seemingly do either do it by fluke, or have experience you don't know about. So take it to heart for about a day or even a week, and then grab the next opportunity with both hands. It helps to win the second time around, and it tastes so much sweeter than the first.**

**Get your tissues ready, people, because we're going to say goodbye to the Wolves in the next chapter. T-T**

**My college starts day after…wish me luck!**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R.K. Iris.**

**P.S.: Thank you, Adei, for your info on how awesome being unconscious can be! 3**


	27. Chapter 18: Farewell, W City Wolves

**A/T:**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 18

"_This_ is where he lives?"

Mathias Køhler removed his glasses and looked at the large town at his feet, incredulity shining in his pale blue eyes. "Wow, Tino-man," he whispered to himself, "You've really come far."

"He thinks he looks so cool," Lukas Bondevik said, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel. Emil Steilsson, sipping on the coffee they'd got at their last stop at a drive-thru, kept quiet. He knew his brother thought the Norwegian looked sexy—he'd heard it from Lukas himself. Lukas grew more annoyed when his brother didn't reply, and honked loudly, watching with sadistic pleasure when Mathias jumped. "Get the hell in. We aren't there yet."

Mathias grinned, and Lukas rolled his eyes, one's gesture turning the other on. Emil carefully looked out as they shot each other smouldering glances enough to melt the windshield between them. Mathias got in the back, and unfolded his long form across the seats, pursing his lips at Lukas through the rearview mirror.

"Well, they'll be waiting," Emil reminded them. With a growl only Emil could hear, Lukas started the car, and drove into W City.

-x-

"Move it, boys! You can do it!"

"Two days…after the match…" Ludwig groaned as Tino yelled them on, "and…back to…practice…"

Matt grinned and increased the speed of his turns.

Things were back to normal.

Tino and Berwald decided a day was enough for them to whine and mourn their loss, promptly forgetting that in their days, they used to lock themselves up for a week, and dragged them all back to practice. Tino was finally training them, and after vomiting their breakfasts on the first day, the boys decided to have light, carb-filled breakfast and come for practice, carrying a heavier meal with them. The only one amongst them not complaining and moaning at every turn was Peter; the imp was used to his parent's torturous routine.

Tino looked at his boys, and took pity on them. Even Gilbert's fast German exercise routine and Berwald's intensive routine couldn't compete with the insanity of Tino's routine and coaching. "Okay. On the benches, _pojat_."

"Aww, just when we were coming in, too."

Even though they wanted to faint, they managed to raise their head to see three blond men standing there, one looking so cheerful their tired eyes hurt, and the other two with bored, non-committal expressions on their faces.

"_Toverit_!" Tino exclaimed as he moved to them. The team somehow managed to skid to the benches and sit down, watching as Tino greeted all three men, and all of them began chattering together at the same time. Ivan turned to Peter. "You…know them…comrade?"

Peter shook his head, and put his head down on Matt's lap. "Nope."

They all watched, bored at first, as the madly cheerful person skated up to Berwald, and started talking to him. Upon seeing the first lusty glance, all of them grew rather interested, and watched their exchange intently. And when they all whooped, Tino looked at them, and then turned around to see his best friend kissing the living daylights out of his husband.

The Fin's eyes grew icy, and uncaring of who was watching them, yanked the blond off his husband and punched him into the air. Ignoring all the catcalls and cheers, Tino stormed towards the tempter, and snarled when Berwald grabbed Tino's arm, spun him around, and kissed him.

Tino was livid. His was fucking furious, even more so when he could taste Mathias on his husband. _Let go of me!_ He thought, trying to push Berwald away, but Berwald wasn't taking no for an answer. Berwald buried one hand into Tino's hair and pulled his head back roughly, running his tongue over Tino's mouth even as he bit his lower lip to hold back the gasp. Berwald wasn't giving up; only Tino's taste could cleanse him now. Berwald slipped his legs between Tino's, his hardening member rubbing against Tino's. Tino's teeth released his lower lip, and Berwald quickly smothered his moan.

Tino tasted like mint and ice and honey and sex, and Berwald's answering groan rumbled through his body into Tino's. He drank the taste out of Tino like a madman insane with thirst, slowly relaxing as his senses all attuned to Tino.

Watching their coaches kissing like teenagers wasn't high on the team's list, so they stared as the cheerful guy got up, only to be punched again by the guy who'd held his hair back with a cross-shaped clip.

"Bad day?" Aryan asked, pouring water over his head.

The rest of them chuckled. "Well, he shouldn't have put the moves on Coach Ox."

"Speaking of which, they're done."

A collective sigh of relief went through the team. They weren't homophobic, but some things could be taken care of in private. So they felt—Coach Ox obviously disagreed.

-_ten minutes later_-

"Hey! How do you do? I'm Mathias Køhler—I play on a contract basis with the NHL for the Philadelphia Flyers, and I've also represented Denmark a few times in the Olympics." He turned to the man who'd punched him the second time. "This is Lukas Bondevik, love of my life. He's a figure skater. And _this_"—his said, prodding the other man in the ribs—"is my best friend, long term advisor and greatest dude around, Emil Steilsson. He's a medic. He and Lukas are brothers—they have the same dad"—

"Why don't you just go ahead and reveal our life history?" Lukas muttered.

Mathias blinked at him. "I was going to, actually. Anyways, they"—

Lukas slapped his hand on Mathias's mouth, his other hand rubbing the bridge of his nose. Tino walked up, gave them all one look and got them to shut up. He turned back to his team. "Since they've already been introduced by the _houkka_"—

"Hey!"

"Emil is going to come with us as our medic, and these two are going to stay and take care of the rink while we're gone," Tino said. "Pass the word around that we're starting figure skating classes here, boys."

"Hey, wasn't Tanu interested?" Aryan asked Acharya.

Acharya cursed heavily. "What is wrong with this world—sending me away when she's going to figure skate?" The rest of them grinned.

"Hey, Tino-man, how about a match for old times' sake?"

All of them gulped at Tino's murderous expression. "Step right up, Køhler, and I'll punch you."

"Aww, come on, Tino-man, what's a kiss between exes? Besides, you got a better deal out of it"—

All of them winced at Lukas's punch to Mathias's stomach. Tino sighed, and said, "Fine. You're on one team, me on the other. As the hometeam, I get to choose first. Berwald."

"Someone's keeping assets close," Ivan muttered, and Matt grinned. "I can't wait to see this."

Ivan grinned as well. "Me neither, comrade. Me neither."

* * *

"You're leaving, huh?"

William turned from the display board, and looked at his sister's family. "Yeah. I think I'll chill at brother Ian's place for a while. He's lonely, you know."

Alice spat. "That Scot is lonely because he can't keep his goddamn temper under control."

William just smiled. "He's still family, Alice. Besides, he's got some herbs he wants me to look at, so there's that. And I love his three dogs and five cats."

Alice rolled her eyes, and patted her brother's upper arm. "Tell him I said hi. And that I still hate him."

William grinned, and kissed his sister's forehead. He shook hands with his brother-in-law, and hugged both his nephews. He lingered over Matt. "You do well, Mattie boy. I know you'll do your best, mate."

"Thanks, uncle."

"You haven't forgotten your passport"—

"No, mom," William teased, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Take care, darlin'."

She nodded. "Take care."

With one final wave, William Kirkland walked away from them, and into the waiting area, awaiting the plane that would take him to England.

Francis looked at his wife, who stubbornly didn't let any tears fall. With a sigh, he gently lowered her head onto his shoulder, stroking her hair, standing there quietly next to her. Finally, after he knew she'd composed herself, he pressed a kiss into her hair, and let go of her. "Let's go, _cherie._"

She nodded and daubed at one eye. "It's just my brother." She chuckled, and jammed her hand into her pockets. "What am I going to do when it's either of my sons?"

Francis slipped his hand into her pocket and held her hand tight.

* * *

"I'm going, too."

Alice choked on her tea, doubling over as she coughed and hacked, trying to get the liquid out of her windpipe. Francis hit her smartly on her back once, twice, until she stopped coughing. She raised her head, eyes watering, throat feeling trashed. "W-What?"

"I'm going with them," Peter said stubbornly. "I'm not going to stay behind this time."

Tino looked at Alice nervously. He couldn't judge her reaction, since she was still coughing away the last bits of irritation. But when she glared at Peter with her red eyes, Tino knew he had to step it. "Alice," Tino started, "Peter's old enough"—

"What's wrong with you?"

Everyone flinched as Alice rose, clearing her throat viciously, glaring at Peter the entire time. Peter, too, rose, glaring right back at his sister. Francis looked nervously at the Nordic couple sitting before him. It was during times like this that their fiery Scottish ancestry showed not only in their temper, but also their accents.

"What's wrong with _me_? I've always wanted this"—

"Are you out of your mind, lad? You"—

"You know I've wanted this"—

"I know exactly what you want! What is this, your way"—

"Sister"—

"Is this your way of torturing yourself, dammit?"

Peter, speechless, gazed at her sister in disbelief.

"You aren't going to play, Peter! You know the position I'm in right now? I'm cheering my son, and I can't cheer my own brother on! You"—

"I"—

"You know better than to go!"

"What am I going to do staying, goddamn you?"

Alice just gaped at her brother, trying to understand where that anger had come from, trying to understand where that carefree boy had gone.

"I'm useless, Alice! Can't you see that? At least there, I'll be of some use! What in the bloody hell am I going to do here? I'm just a useless jock—I can't run your company! I'm just a bloody waterboy looking for recognition!"

"And going with them is going to get you that?"

Peter's anger grew at Alice's softly spoken words. "I don't have any other"—

"Fine. Go."

Alice's curt words cut right through Peter's rage. All of them looked at her disbelievingly, but her eyes were only on her brother. "Go. Do what you want. You aren't a baby anymore. I don't tell my sons what to do—what am I going to tell you?" She shrugged. All of them relaxed, looking at Alice's calmed demeanour. But Peter wasn't fooled.

Quick as lightning, she grabbed Peter's collar and dragged him in front of her face, making the table between them shake precariously. "But I'll tell you something, lad. If you so much as step in this direction without playing a single match, I will burn down your fathers' establishment and Basch Zwingli's business for so much as putting the thought of playing hockey into your head, and I'll make you light the match. Do you understand me?"

Peter's clear, confident, belligerent eyes showed all the understanding she wanted to see.

Alice pushed him back. "Bloody lug. Get the hell out of my house, and pack."

With his head held high, he marched out.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Alice collapsed into her seat, drained. "I'm so sorry, Tino. Berwald. Both of you. I'm so sorry."

Tino looked at the unbelievably strong woman before him, taking everything that the world threw at her into her stride. "We understand, Alice."

Alice chuckled. "I myself don't understand." She groaned, and buried her face into her hands, her fingers digging into her scalp. "What have I done?"

* * *

"No."

"Wang"—

"No. Now either buy something or get out, aru."

"Wang"—

"I will not let you so much as look in the direction of my dirty dishes, aru. Now eat or leave."

"But, Wang"—

"I don't care, aru. Work with your brother."

"I can't"—

"I would like to choose that life, but I don't want to be put off chocolate forever, aru. A girl needs what she can get, aru. Are you going to order something, aru, or are you leaving?"

"I would like to order an employee's form."

Chun-Yan's eyes narrowed as she assessed the level of desperation in the older Beilschmidt's face. She knew how desperate he was; she just needed to know how hard he was going to work.

"Aren't you going with the team, aru?"

"_Nein._ I'm staying back. But taking classes for children isn't going to be enough for the—err, for me." Gilbert wisely kept his mouth shut about his 'awesome'ness, because he knew it grated on Chun-Yan's nerves to no end.

"You're going to be juggling two other jobs with this, aru. How do I know you're serious?"

"After I'm done working at the clothes' shop with Héderváry, I'll finish up classes and I'll man the bar the entire night. I'm up for it. I was a state rep; I have the stamina."

Chun-Yan sighed. Gilbert had no idea of the reputation her bar had. At least he hadn't said that godammed word in her presence even once. "One employee form coming right up, aru."

She hoped she was doing the right thing.

* * *

Matt looked up. "Come in."

The door swung open and Al came in, grinning at his brother. "Hey, broski."

Matt straightened, folding his shirt as Al came in. "Hey, Al. What is it?"

"Just checking on lil' bro," Al said, and sat down on the bed. Matt resumed packing up his clothes into the large trolley bag. "Do you have your equipment in place? I'm going to the store to buy some stuff, so if you need"—

"I'm fine. I'll check once again, though it'll be before dinner."

Al heard Matt's unasked question. "I'll keep off till then. Call us, okay? You always forget where your phone is, all the time. So don't forget to call."

Matt smiled. "I won't."

"Carry a smaller bag with your day-to-day stuff—do I have to loan you mine?"

Matt grinned at his brother. "If you're willing to give it to me for three months." Al glared at his brother, and Matt laughed. "Kidding, kidding. I have mine—it's a little old, but it'll do."

Al settled down, and looked at Matt silently, quite uncharacteristic for him. Matt could feel his eyes on him, but he was used to Al's long, silent gazes. When he'd asked him why once, a long time ago, Al had told him that it helped him to think of important stuff. After a while, Matt had just gotten used to Al staring right through him, as if he was invisible.

He heard Al picking up the photograph he'd kept next to his bed, reminding Matt that he had to put that into the suitcase, too, although taking a picture of it would probably be more than enough. An idea flashed into his head, and Matt fished out his cellphone from his pocket. "Oi, Al."

Al looked at him absently. "Hmm?"

"Hold the picture up. I want to take a picture."

Al just raised a brow. "You know how stupid you sound?"

Matt finally got the camera working, and held it up. "Hold the pic, Al?"

Sighing, Al held the pic up.

"Next to your face."

Al held the photo frame next to his face, and stuck his tongue out. Laughing, Matt took a picture, and uploaded it as his wallpaper. Now, he could leave it as it was, next to his bed, where it belonged. He grinned at the picture and looked up, only to find Al standing up, walking over to where he was standing.

"Mom kept bugging me to get you something," Al started, looking quite uncomfortable, "and I told her I didn't want to 'cause someone else could always get it for you the same place I got it. I don't really believe in the whole 'it's the thought that matters.' Quite bullshitty, actually."

Matt chuckled, both at Al's choice of words and Al's please-let-the-ground-swallow-me-up face. He watched as Al fished out something from his pocket. "So I made this for you."

Matt gasped as Al held it out to him. On a base as big as his palm stood a prowling wolf, one legg raised. Each individual feature had been beautifully carved out in the dark wood, and Matt could make out the minute strands of hair on the fur of the majestic wooden figurine. Awed, Matt took the figure from him and ran a finger over the meticulously carved back, the carefully whittled ear. It stood there, unpainted, primitive, life shining in those intelligent eyes.

Matt's fingers brushed against an indenture at the base, and he turned it around. He laughed through the growing lump in his throat, his fingers tracing the maple leaf that Al has chipped out into the base. He turned it, analysed it, and read the words grooved into the side of the platform.

_For the alpha Wolf, Matt._

As Al watched Matt's reaction, he realized he didn't need any praise, any awe, any gratitude, any words from his brother.

Just the tears of joy rolling down Matt's cheeks were enough.

* * *

He didn't know what time it was, but the window high up opposite him told him it was quite dark outside. His mind was unusually blank, as if he hadn't dreamt the entire night. His eyes stung with the lack of sleep, but Matt's mind was sharp, and he knew he could sleep no more. He turned to the side and pressed a button on his alarm, blinking as the background of the digital clock lit up.

Five o' clock.

Blearily, he turned, and looked at the dimly glowing stars and moons on the ceiling. They were a few years younger than the house, and Al's loud insistence had got them both a set each. Francis had put up the first set in Matt's room—then, it had been both Al's and Matt's room—and when Al got his own room, Francis put them up there, too. He loved looking at them—it was during the few times in his past when his brother wasn't at practice and his mother wasn't out of town and his dad wasn't in his restaurant—and they all noticed and valued Matt.

His thoughts went to the one person whom noticed and valued him all the time, and wondered why she hadn't called him in the past week. After that night, Nat had disappeared, and after poking and prodding Ivan, he'd got to know that she'd packed up a large bag and locked herself up in Elizabeta's house. It was quite a shock to Matt—he knew Nat _abhorred_ going to other people's houses, so when she'd barged in—according to Gilbert—and not shown her face around at all, it had shocked quite a lot of people. She hadn't gone to the restaurant, and he was pretty sure she hadn't showed her face outside at all. According to Ivan, the only one she spoke to was Katyusha, every night, reassuring her sister that she was still alive in short, curt sentences that were her trademark.

Matt missed her.

He swung off the bed, and decided to take care of his bathroom business. When he came out, brushed and bathed and gloriously naked, his mind still hadn't strayed off Natalia.

He was going to go find her.

He didn't know what he was doing, but when he managed to get his mind right, he was dressed and ready and moving downstairs and towards the door, but the light in the kitchen caught his eye. Slowing down, he moved to the kitchen, picking up a vase along the way.

"Is it you, Matt?"

He casually—and quietly—set the vase down, and walked into the kitchen. "Hey, mum. Morning."

"Good morning, kid. You look ready to go."

"Yeah…I…ah…haven't seen Nat awhile. I thought I'd go, you know, check on her."

"Want some hot chocolate before you go?"

He saw the mug in her hand, and nodded. As he watched Alice prepare a cup for him, he realized that he spent relatively less time with his mum that with his papa, and that Francis had had to be both a father and a mother to both him and Al when Alice was out of town on business. It just made him appreciate his parents all the more, and value each second he spent with his mother doing normal, everyday things—like sharing hot chocolate.

She handed him his cup. Matt sat down on the island, while Alice leaned against the serving counter. They drank in the silence of the dawn yet to break, sipping on their hot, bittersweet cups of chocolate.

"I'm proud of you, son."

Matt looked up, and Alice set her mug down. "I'm proud of you, my boy. I don't tell you that much, do I?" Alice laughed self-depreciatively. "I'm not around much, either. And your brother, he's just…"

"It's okay, mum. I know."

"That doesn't mean I tell you important things to make it look like I'll pay attention to you only when you're going to do something of this scale." Matt smiled, and Alice sighed. "If nothing else, Matthew, you possess your father's incredible self-confidence. It's not Al's cockiness…I know nothing I say or don't say will hurt you. But I know it's not fair."

"Sometimes, it's okay to hear you say it once in a while. I love you, mum."

Alice looked at her son, her eyes stinging with tears she would never let fall. "There you go again. I swear, you're more like your dad than me."

Matt set down his mug, and went over and hugged her. "That's why you love me so much."

Alice chuckled as she held her son as close as she possibly could. "That's true. Now go get Nat."

"In a minute."

And Alice and Matt stood there, in the arms of the most incredible person in their world.

-x-

It was done.

Nat groaned, and pushed back, squealing as the chair fell backwards, she with it. Groaning loudly at the bolt of pain going through her, she didn't bother getting up—instead, she stayed there, on the ground, in that awkward position, letting the enormity of the whole thing settle in.

It. Was. Done.

Finally.

After inking her fingertips black and pricking her hands with that goddamn needle and singing her right finger with the hot iron press, it was done. And she couldn't possibly forget all the blood, sweat, groans, frustration and sheer contentment that came with all of that.

Done, done, done, done, done.

She ran her hands through her semi-matted hair. She really had to run a bloody comb through that. Sighing, she decided to get up when something clattered against her window.

She frowned. She was hearing things—she'd stayed up nights in a row, and—

Her phone beeped. She frowned even more, and pushed aside a pile of clothes to fish out her phone from one of the jacket pockets.

_1 new message._

_Click._

_I'm standing right outside. Let me in. –Mattie–_

Nat did the only thing she could do.

She freaked.

-_five minutes later_-

"Took you long"—

She slapped her hand onto his mouth, and glared at him. "Shh! Everyone's asleep."

Matt could see the tiredness, the dark circle under her eyes. Her entire face was haggard, and her hands felt rough and sore. She hadn't been taking care of herself—and what stung him was that he wasn't going to be there anymore. Before the thought could fully formulate, he let his needs take over—he took her hand in his, slipped his hand into her hair and kissed her.

Nat let out a strangled yelp, smothered as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. She sagged into him; surprised, he dragged her to him, supporting her up. He kissed her slowly, slower, slower, until one second meshed into the other, dragging on for what was eternity. She was a conflict of tastes, rich in texture, and oh, so heady. He ran his tongue over hers, sucked softly on her lips. Heat shot straight to his groin, but the fatigue radiating from her reached him, too.

Her blood was clogged with heat, thick and slow, inching through her, raising her skin to pinpricks as it spread throughout her in a painfully slow torture. She kissed him back, her teeth capturing his lip just to let it go, her tongue moving around the inside of his cheek, her breath hissing out as her hands slowly explored his body.

His tongue slipped out slowly, leaving her mouth with a sense of emptiness that echoed to her insides. But Matt's gentle smile was enough. "Awake now, Nat?"

She sighed and let her head plop into his chest, her hands wrapping themselves around him.

"I missed you. Where'd you go?"

"Right here, this entire time," she whispered. His scent was unbelievably comforting. She hoped he'd left quite a bit of his shirts behind—she would go mad without his scent to act like the shadow of his presence.

"I'm going today, Nat."

"I know. You're flying away." She sighed, and stepped back from the warmth to look at him. "I can't see you off, Matt." She held up a hand, and he refrained from speaking. "I know I'm being selfish. But I can't see you off."

Matt smiled, and kissed her forehead silently. She basked in the gesture, and sighed as he drew back. "I'll come. But I'll be in the background. Don't expect me to send you off."

Matt put his hand under her chin, and tilted it up. "I'll take all my send-offs right now, then."

Before his lips could come down on hers, she pressed a finger to his lips. "Oh no, _durak_, you aren't distracting me again. I need to give you something." Matt frowned, unable to say whether he was to follow or to stay as she dashed off. He decided to stay, and eased out his frown as she appeared again, holding something behind her. Without preamble, she held it out to him, and he took it from her, unable to even gasp as he unfolding the piece of clothing.

In the blue of the sea just beneath the surface stretched words, pictures, dates, phrases, all etched into the cloth of the sweatshirt. Pictures of him, pictures of her, of them—eating ice-cream, sticking out their tongues, with a butterfly perched on the nose of a sleeping Matt—she'd managed to meld it into the thread, into the cloth. He ran a shaking finger over it—it wasn't printed. It was actually remade, thread for thread, and woven into the cloth.

August 25th, July 01st, April 23rd, July 14th, July 04th—she'd managed to figure out the birthdays of nearly everyone whom he cared about, and had etched it into the cloth, here and there, in a confusion that just seemed…in many ways, it reminded him of how she truly was.

In the middle, in big, red letters, was printed his name—Matthew—with the words underneath:

_A kind angel put down to help us rise up._

He turned the hoodie, and saw a huge emblem of W City, with the phrase stating:

_Kindest man in this town, with the roughest friends around. Don't mess with him._

He laughed, even as the tears flowed down freely. His eyes blurred—he could see no more. He grabbed hold of the back of Nat's head, and crushed his lips down to hers. Their teeth knocked against each other, his glasses slipped down uncomfortably, her fingers tangled in his hair painfully.

But as he drugged her with his happiness, he knew life couldn't get better than that.

* * *

The new watch glinted in the sunlight, the leather straps catching the rays and sliding them over smoothly over their surfaces. Matt didn't have time to admire the watch his parents gave him—he was too busy hugging them.

The entire terminal was full of people—it was as if the entire town had descended to the airport. Entire families—in the case of Aryan and Acharya, even their girlfriends' families—were proudly waving their children off to battle, watching them go with a sense of pride and anguish, the bittersweet moment dragging their hearts from either sides.

Matt watched as Feliciano kissed Ludwig quite publicly, Aryan and Acharya grumbled at being fussed over, Kiku spoke quietly to his family, and Ivan kissed his elder sister's cheeks. Diego had told his lady-loves not to come—mostly because a fight would erupt, what with his ability to juggle and maintain several women at once.

Al wasn't there—he'd already said his goodbyes to his brother. Although he thrived in crowds, Matt never quite understood why he didn't like crowds—he was never present at gatherings like this. But Matt had put it down to his eccentricities—he hadn't really expected the elder Bonnefoy to be here.

His mobile beeped, and he fished it out, still talking to Antonio Carriedo.

_Turn to your left._

He looked around and over five different people, and caught the salute and the '_Bon voyage_' that had been mouthed to him. Matt smiled as he watched the figure leave. His brother wasn't fluent in French, but he knew all the right words.

Alice and Francis were occupied in talking to Antonio and Elizabeta, and Matt found himself standing next to Ivan. "Did Nat say her goodbyes?" he asked him. Before Ivan could answer, Katyusha caught sight of Matt, and Matt began talking to the Braginsky siblings.

"She's right there, comrade."

He felt the burn of those unusual blue eyes, and turned to see Nat standing against a pillar, her goodbye in her eyes. With a small smile, she raised two fingers to her brow, and nodded once, and then again.

Matt and Ivan both nodded, and Matt couldn't tear his eyes off her—he knew if he looked away, she would be gone by the time he looked back.

"Let her go, comrade. Saying it is tough, for both of you. Finish it quickly."

He heard the truth in Ivan's words.

_Goodbye, Natalia._

Nat blinked at him, and her face softened.

_Goodbye, Matt._

And Matt turned away, knowing that she could go now, knowing that she was gone, and that now, he too could go ahead.

Because the only way to go was forward.

* * *

She banged at the door, uncaring for who was there and who wasn't. Nat knew Alfred was there, and she knew he'd open up.

She heard footsteps hurrying to the door, but they weren't fast enough. They weren't nearly as frantic as the pace her heart was setting. Anguish nearly tore through her as she banged the door with her fist, but she managed to reel it in.

The door swung open under her fist. Without giving a damn, she stumbled past Alfred, ignoring all his questions because she couldn't hear him behind the roaring demon stuck in her head. She staggered up the stairs, her hands gripping the railings tightly as she got her balance back, only to lose it again. She made it up the stairs, and it was another eternity before she got to the door. By then, she could make out Al's voice over the tumultuous roar in her ears that filled her brain.

Her hands slipped over the knob, even though they were burning hot. With a strangled groan she managed to open the door, and slip inside. She closed the door behind her, kicked her boots behind her, and tore into the bed, flinging the sheets over her, closing her eyes as the scent engulfed her senses, choking her.

_He is gone._

He was gone.

The thought reverberated through her brain as she let the dams open, and was the last thought she had as she cried herself to sleep.

He was gone.

* * *

**-end of part 1-**

* * *

**A/T: It was around 10:45 pm when I finished this, and I had to wake up early to study, so I didn't add a A/N. I started this exactly a week ago...maybe you guys will be getting weekly updates. And Part 1 started from Chapter 2, and this...is the end of part 1.**

**Goodbye, Matt. T-T**

**Shine bright like a Doitsu!**

**College is aweshaam-it's tough, it's hard, but it's aweshaaam. Simply amazing. **

**Well, how bout you people get that review clock to a hundred? Over nine thousand's too much to ask-my favourite meme-so, a hundred would be awesome.**

**Do review, guys-in this phase of my life, I need all the reviews I can get to keep me happy.**

**Thank you, psychopathicXangel!**

**If you guys liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	28. Chapter 19: Basketball fun & surprises

**A/N: I was reading the reviews, and I was…people are crying? Then I re-read the chapter and I went, "Oohhhhh…****_that_****."**

**I'm killing myself on as to how I'm going to start this crazy chapter…It's the beginning of part 2, people, so it's got to be good.**

**DV, Adei, Em, PsyAngel, thanku for the reviews! AnimeApprentice, thank you sooo much!**

**College is awesome…it truly is.**

**Okay, so I dunno how many of you know, but the reason I am not studying in my previous school was because I didn't follow up on certain things and they were acting really cocky in the absence of the Principal. So, apparently, no one knew I WASN'T there in school—they didn't know I shifted to my new college—and someone gave my name for House Captain. Then they started hunting for me, and they finally realized I WAS NOT there. And according to my bestie Sarni—"They only noticed you when you're gone, da." She's right. But I'm glad I left, seriously.**

**God had this crazy sense of humour, and I'm grateful for it.**

**I'm not sure if I've made this clear, but in MFN, Natalia doesn't wear a bow—she wears a bandanna…and she ties up her hair in the ponytail Jani's visualized.**

**Speaking of Jani—my 100****th**** reviewer! THANK YOU ALL FOR LENDING YOUR SUPPORT CONTINUOUSLY! I'M SO PROUD OF ALL OF US, AND GRATEFUL TO ALL OF YOU!**

**Even the caps doesn't do any justice.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia. **

* * *

**Part 2**

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 19

"How about we shoot some hoops after work?"

The four Russians looked up at Al, and all three boys yelped in excitement. Nat frowned at her younger siblings, and turned to Al. "Shoot?"

"Basketball, _sestra_," Eduard informed, pushing his glasses up. "When?"

"After we let up. There's a community court near my place; we could go there."

Alfred watched as Nat turned to Toris and spoke in rapid Russian; it was too fast for him to follow. Toris answered her patiently, then said something that made her chuckle and shrug. She turned to Al, and started in Russian, but caught herself and spoke slower in English, "Who else are you calling?"

"Some guys I know. You want to call somebody, too?"

"Feli and Lovi would love—Feliciano and Lovino"—

Nat growled, interrupting Ravis. "I hate that _durak_."

"Lovino, right?"

Nat turned to Al, one eyebrow raised.

"He's…weird," Al said, and Nat laughed. "_Da_. He is weird."

"But he plays really well," Ravis added. "We could also call Kaoru, Im Yong Soo and Mei—they'd love to come."

Nat smiled at the mention of Mei, and then frowned thoughtfully. "What about Tanu's younger siblings? The twins? They also play basketball, I think."

Toris nodded. "Even Tanusha plays basketball. We could call her."

"Alright, guys, that's enough people for one game," Al said, holding his hands in a T. "At this rate, I won't have to call my other friends. How about we take Layla and Ben there?" Al said, gesturing towards the two Brazilians Francis had hired recently.

"We'll ask them, then," Nat said, and turned to Ravis. "How many does that make?"

"Well…three, five, then…eleven…thirteen," Ravis said. "That's a bit much."

"Unless someone doesn't want to play," Al offered. "We need one more person…Pity Honda isn't here. He's a fantastic play…er…"

As soon as the words fell out of his mouth, Al regretted them. Nat's thoughtful blue eyes turned flat, and she distanced herself from all of them. With a curt nod, she left the kitchen, and began putting on her blades. "Break's over," she said curtly. "Move, _mal'chik_. This place isn't going to run itself."

Honestly, at that moment, Al could've killed himself. Or if not killed himself, struck his head against the cashier really, really hard. Before he could say anything, Francis emerged from the back, carrying a huge carton full of vegetables, and began shooing everyone into working. The three brothers gave Al a sympathetic glance mixed with 'you're-so-screwed' that just about made Al's day. With a huff Al grabbed his notepad and pen, cursing the day his parents put him up for this…

-_a few days ago-_

"We should call them over for dinner."

It was the first time only the three of them were at the table—Alice had just come back from seeing Matthew's first win against Herfer, Alfred had gone to his workplace in Scottsdale to apply for leave, and Francis was already there. It was rather awkward; Alice spoke about how the W City team had floored the entire contingent from Herfer, and Matt's two goals and one assist during the game. Al talked about his day, and Francis talked about his. Within no time, Nat was up, and they began discussing her behaviour after Matt had left.

"She's become the way she used to be a few years ago," Alice said, and frowned when Al smirked. "Alfred, wipe that smirk off your mug."

"Mom, you're talking about _Natalia_. She's always been nasty and mean and rude"—

Al yelped when his mother kicked him from under the table. "Mom!"

Francis sighed. "Son, she always stuck close to Matt. I'm not saying she doesn't have any other friends, but she was always closest to Matthew. She didn't like being redirected to Matt's voicemail, but that boy must've misplaced his phone somewhere…she is very attached to Matthew."

That was when Alice came up with her suggestion, but Al looked at her as if she was slightly off. "Mom, dad himself said she's attached to Matt. Without Matt here, it's just going to be damn uncomfortable for her. She hates me, and she really isn't on my favourites list—even if Matt says we're alike, I really don't care. It's always a bad idea to become the friend of a sibling's friend…I mean"—

"I know what you mean," both Francis and Alice said at the same time, and Francis smiled indulgently at his wife. He turned to his son. "She knows better than I do, actually."

Al shrugged. "She's always going to like Matt more than me, anyways. But why are we talking about this?"

"She's a strong girl, Al," Alice explained. "It's just…She's not even complained once about Matt not being there, do you know that?"

"I don't know; we don't talk much."

Alice was about to yell at Al when an idea struck her. "Maybe you should."

Al frowned. "Excuse me?"

"To Natalia. You should talk to—I know! Why don't you take her around with you?"

Francis blinked, and lit up when the idea came to him as well. "I agree. Alfred, Natalia's in need of a friend now. And you're going to spend a lot of time around her now, since you're working in the restaurant"—

"Waitwaitwaitwait. _What_?" Before Alice and Francis could interject, Al was shaking his head vehemently. "No. _No freaking way_. Can you guys hear yourself? This is _Natalia_ we're talking about! _I don't like her_! What part of that"—

"Al, stop." Alice stopped her son from speaking with that, but she couldn't stop him from glaring with a mixture of incredulity and murder at her. "Natalia needs a friend, and don't you dare interrupt me, lad. I love that girl, but I can't be the kind of friend she needs. So, for crying out loud, work on _not killing her_ so that the next time we have her _here_ for _dinner_, I don't have to worry about keeping the dinnerware away from you in case you hurt each other!"

"There are different kinds of friends, _fiston_," Francis said, placating his son. "Just try."

Al calmed down at his father's words, but one look at the calculating gleam in his mother's eyes told him that this wasn't going to be 'no-strings-attached'.

And boy, was he right.

-_present-_

Which brought him to his current predicament.

He absently took down the orders, and rushed to the counter to tag it. On his way, he saw Nat again. He knew he didn't have time to be articulate, so he just rushed it. "I'm sorry."

She just shrugged and put her order up, yelling it out. She muttered something that he didn't catch.

"Sorry?"

"…play basketball."

"What?"

Nat grabbed his collar and dragged his face to hers, nose to nose. "I. Don't. Remember. How. To. Play. Basketball."

He could see shards of green in her eyes, and the thin ring of black that encircled her irises. And her chewing-gum-mint breath was hot against his lips. Al just narrowed his eyes, and grinned smugly. "Oho…I"—

"Don't you _dare_ say anything"—

"We'll go early, then."

Nat was so surprised that she let go of Al, and he leaned back. Too close was too much. "We'll go early, and I'll run you through the basics." At Nat's snort, Al narrowed his eyes again. "I'm twice state champion, darlin'. If I don't know the rules, I don't know who does."

"Very impressive."

She looked as impressed as a brain-dead panellist listening to godawful music. Al rolled his eyes. "As you wish. If you want to come, come. I'm going early anyways—I need to book it and do some stuff."

"Fine. Whatever."

With a smug grin he watched her go away, his hands itching to tug the ends of her hair. He didn't even know why, but right then, he wanted to tug the ends of her hair.

Hopefully, he'd get there.

* * *

Al blinked as Nat tapped the ball out of his hands. Again. He turned, and watched her nimbly dribble the ball and take a lay-up.

"What was that?" he asked as she ran behind the ball. She caught the ball, and turned around, expertly blowing her hair out of her eyes. "What?"

"What was with your 'OMG-I-don't-know-basketball' act?"

Nat raised an eyebrow, and that spoke volumes. "I said I _didn't_ remember. Apparently, I do. You were right, Jones. It _is_ like cycling."

Al seriously regretted the vote of confidence he'd given her at the beginning. "You're a liar, Natalia." He snatched the ball, and threw it at the hoop fluidly, not even caring when it went it. "You lied to me."

"Oh, don't be so offended. I can play. Isn't that a good thing?"

"As long as you're on my team. Unless you want to lead a team yourself," he added as she opened her mouth to protest. With a glare, she walked away, retrieving the ball, and he watched her go.

Matt had been right. She was _too_ much like him.

His hand inched to the phone, like it always did. He was worried about Matt, but Alice said he was fine. She and Francis were going for his third match in two days. Al wanted to go, but he'd left Al deputy—apparently Nat was head honcho whenever Francis wasn't around. Whatever little pleasure he got from listening to Nat grumble cancelled out his feeling of being chosen over someone else, so he was alright.

His phone buzzed, and he took it out.

_Yeraba, bare knuckle. Match at ten. Be there._

_-xEndx-_

Al sighed softly, deleted the message, and slipped the phone in. He'd probably be able to play an hour, an hour and fifteen tops. He looked at Nat. "Oi, Natalia, when are they coming?"

"We're here!"

Al turned, and watched an entire gang of people walk through the gate and onto the court, breaking the silence of the night with their chatter. He watched as they swallowed Nat right up, and blinked, surprised. He didn't know she was socially active, but the last time he'd actually seen her with someone other than his brother was too long ago to remember. Most of them didn't really know him too well—they all knew him from school and college, but he'd disappeared to Scottsdale, and they really didn't see him around much. Still, all of them smiled politely and said hi.

Mei snatched the basketball from him, and began shooting. A small crowd formed around one hoop, and Al just stood there, wondering who would help him start the selections. Finally, he decided to put his basketball skills to use, and pushed through three people, caught the rebound and held the ball high in the air. "No, no, no—no! Get back, all of you! Get back!" Al started chanting 'back, back' until all of them stopped trying to steal the ball from him and just stood there.

"Now," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "We're going to play an actual game. There are thirteen of us, so we'll play six on seven—six on my team, seven on the other person's. Now who's going to be the other team's captain?"

After five seconds, Tanusha stepped up, with catcalls and applause following in her wake. Alfred recognized her from the girl's state basketball team, and realized he was up against someone really, really good. He passed the ball to her. "Hey, Gopalan. Didn't think of seeing you here."

Tanusha smiled. "Two years, Alfred Jones, and this is my third time seeing you around. What rock do you hide under?"

Al just grinned at her. "Welcome to W City."

"A bit late for that, but…thanks. You're going first, right?"

He nodded. "Natalia."

"Skanda," she said, and her youngest brother lined up behind her.

"Im Yong Soo."

"Feliciano."

Nat stood there and watched as the teams were being selected. She was playing with Yong Soo, Bhavani—Skanda's elder twin—Mei and Toris. The other team had Tanusha, Skanda, Feliciano, Lovino, Eduardo, Ravis and Kaoru, but Kaoru dropped out as soon as he was selected, saying he'd rather watch them play than play himself.

Al shooed Tanusha's team to the other half of the court, and turned to his team. "Okay. Since we're six…Im Yong Soo, Bhavani, you're defenders. Toris, how well can you dribble?"

Toris shrugged. "Good enough."

"Alright, then. You and Mei be the forwards. Natalia, stay in the middle—don't stray off too back or front." He knew she wanted to tell him she knew exactly what the middle was, but he was glad she didn't. "You're a pretty good shooter. If you get the ball, see where you are—if you're close to the net, shoot, otherwise, pass to any one of us. I'll take up being the forward for now—we'll see later."

"I need to go in half an hour," Mei said, and Al nodded. "So do we all. Let's keep it short, people, and let's have fun. And another thing—don't let Tanusha get the ball. No matter what you do, Tanusha shouldn't get the ball." He got a knowing grin from Bhavani, and knew he was right. "She's an absolute devil if she's the opponent, once she gets the ball. Then, who else?" Al surveyed the rest of the team, and turned when Toris said, "Eduard's a really good shot, and he's usually the rebounder."

"Fine, then. Bhavani, Im Yong Soo, stay for the rebounds, and tap the ball out of whomever you see to get a shot. Okay, then, we ready?"

They nodded.

"Let's go, people," Al said, and his eyes connected with Nat's before he turned around. Getting the message, Nat caught up with him and looked at him curiously.

"I don't know if you can dribble or not, but I know you can shoot. We'll do shooting for a while until you get confident, okay?"

Nat nodded, not really finding a retort that would cut through his kind, firm voice and not make her look like a jerk. It wasn't a change, watching him be the team captain—it was like slipping into a pair of worn house slippers. He was obviously at ease with it, and he'd done it countless number of times. There was no sudden transformation—just a slight change in the way he talked to everyone, and a shift of his posture. She couldn't really place a finger on it, but she knew he was quite comfortable, moving people around and placing them strategically.

But she'd only know how good he really was much later, and she'd pay a heavy price for it.

Al and Tanusha stood up against each other. "Faceoff or we'll just start?" Tanusha asked.

"Faceoffs are fun," Al said, smiling. "Me against someone from your team."

"Skanda," Tanusha called out, and her tall, lanky brother came up, a good three inches taller than Al. Still, Al was pretty confident of having the moves over him, and even if Skanda won the faceoff, he'd do everything to steal the ball from their team.

Mei turned to Kaoru, and yelled something. The man slipped his iPod into his pocket, and ran towards them. Al handed the ball over to Kaoru, and turned to his team, positioning them around the centre circle, and saw Tanusha doing the same. He turned to Kaoru. "Want to referee?"

He shrugged, and stood back as they all assembled themselves. "Ready?" he asked, and both of them nodded. Kaoru threw the ball high into the air, and Skanda rose over Al, tapping it easily above his head. With a growl, Al turned to see Lovino dribbling the ball towards the scoring basket.

Toris caught up with Lovino, tried to steal the ball from him. Lovino turned, passed to Feliciano, but Mei intercepted him, caught the ball and threw it to Nat.

Nat blinked at the ball, and looked up, eyes scanning the crowd and falling on a pair of azure blue eyes that were beckoning to her. She took a step back and flung the ball in an arc that flew across half the court, to where Alfred was standing.

Al's score was only counted by Kaoru—the rest were just blinking at Nat, who was busy flexing her arm. Noticing the incredulous gazes, she turned and bared her teeth at all of them, jolting them back into the game.

"Your ball," Al said, and dropped the ball for Eduard to take the throw. He moved to defend his side of the court, catching up to Nat in the process.

"Where did you develop that arm?" he asked, and Nat recognized the underlying respect in his voice. She just smiled, and turned around to defend the court.

Tanusha came in with the ball, pausing at half court. She looked at her teammates—Al's entire team was playing man-to-man defence, and she could see Mei running up to her. With a grin that reflected the ludicrousness of her thoughts, she shot the ball from half court.

It hit the rim, but didn't go in. Yong Soo caught the rebound, and watched for the first person on his team who was free—the opponent had instantly gone onto defence at Tanusha's yell. He passed it to Toris, who instantly mapped out a course and zoomed between Tanusha defending Al, Lovino snarling at Nat and Eduard who thought he could hold Toris back, and went for the basket, but someone tapped the ball out from behind just as he got ready to take the shot. Confused, Toris watched as Skanda came up from behind him and went behind the ball. Snarling, Toris followed, but he wasn't tall enough for the lanky man, and could just jump aimlessly, trying to tap the ball out even as Skanda threw the ball into the other half of the court.

Tanusha caught it, turned, and blinked at Yong Soo standing right in front of her. She pivoted, only to find him defending her with no holes in his defence. She passed the ball to Feliciano, who shot the ball straight through the hoop.

Tanusha passed the ball to Bhavani, and yelled at her team to get back. Bhavani passed it to Yong Soo, and clapped once. He passed it back to her, only to have her pass it back when Skanda blocked her from moving forward. He threw the ball over everyone's head and watched as it landed in Natalia's hands.

"Shoot!" Al yelled, running to cut Eduard from defending her.

"It's a three pointer!"

But she didn't get any reply, because Al was busy blocking Eduard. With a growl, she took aim and shot.

"Go Nattae!" Al yelled, and thumped her on the back, knocking her breath out. "Come on, let's win this thing!"

Nat, still wheezing, jogged slowly to the other end.

In the next twenty seven minutes, Kaoru called nine fouls, twelve violations, three three-pointers and twenty five points, and basically laughed his insides out as he watched people purposely grabbing the ball and running, screaming at the top of their lungs, Feliciano hitting three different people with his 'white flag'—his handkerchief tied to a stick—Nat and Lovino having a staring match which lead to pausing the game as people couldn't move around them, Mei, Bhavani and Nat ganging up on poor Feliciano, Yong Soo doing an impromptu jig every time they scored a hoop and Skanda overthrowing the ball onto the road outside at least three times.

It ended in a draw, with sixteen points on either side. Mei sat down in protest, trying to catch her breath, and soon, they were all sitting down, with the exception of Tanusha and Alfred, trying to get them all back on their feet. Giving up, they, too, sat down, until everyone's phones started ringing at the same time. Most of them got on their feet, except for Toris, Ravis, Eduard and Natalia, who were planning to go back home together. Mei, Yong Soo and Kaoru got up. "Anyone catching the subway with us?" Mei asked, and nearly everyone ran towards Mei.

Nat turned to her brothers. "You boys going on the subway?"

The three of them shook their heads. "We came on our scooters," Ravis informed. Toris looked at Nat. "We could drop some people home."

Nat nodded. "Take Mei, Yong Soo and Kaoru. I'll take"—

"Hey, Natalia?"

Nat looked up, and saw Al standing over her. She got to her feet, and faced him. "What?"

"I need you to drop me somewhere."

Nat shrugged. She'd brought him here with her, since his bike, Justice, had gone for repair and servicing. "Can't you take the subway?"

"I wouldn't be asking you otherwise."

She saw his point. "Fine. Where is it?"

"Do you know the large farmhouse near Sydney Shack? I need to get there."

She just raised an eyebrow, but he was running towards the bleachers to retrieve his bag. She sighed, and turned around. "I'll see you at home. No starting dinner without me."

"_Byt' ostorozhnym_," Toris warned. _Be careful._

Nat narrowed her eyes slightly, but nodded. In the absence of Ivan, Toris was the man of the house. "Drive safely. Go now."

As she watched her brothers go, she thought about how she'd have to spend some more time in Alfred's company, and she waiting for her emotions to rise so that she could give them a name.

Surprisingly, the thought of spending time with Alfred didn't feel as bad as she thought it would.

* * *

He always hated seeing the bastard's face. Unfortunately, Klaus was his only connection to the woman who seemed to be wallowing in so much cash that she could donate it to everyone in the world once over. Why she felt like spending it on someone two continents away was beyond him.

He didn't even know her full name—and that irked him to no end, since she seemed to know the backstory behind every breath he took. But it wasn't only him—she knew everything about his family, too. She herself had taught him that knowledge was more powerful than all the money and prestige in the world. The fact that she knew so much was the only thing keeping him under her palm—they both knew he didn't need the money. He had needed it, some years ago, but now…well, she could keep it.

She knew his biggest weakness, and she took delight in using that to make him her bitch.

He thought about the second call that had come in in the same month—a rare occurrence, so when he saw Klaus-cucumber-up-my-ass in the room, it had taken everything inside him to keep from ripping the asshole's face apart.

"What do you want?" he'd said. Klaus had just held up the phone, not even blinking when it was snatched from him.

"Congratulations on the win of the W City Wolves. You must be delighted, _mon brave garcon_."

He sighed. "What do you want, Miss Ella?"

"Why do you sound so upset, _moy dorogoy_? You should be ecstatic! Things are finally moving along!"

He blinked. She _actually_ sounded quite pleased. "Really?"

"_Oui_! _Da_! Of course! With Braginsky out of the way…well, doesn't that make you _glavnogo shefa_?"

"I hope you realize what you're implying, Koroleva."

"That you weren't head honcho before? _Allez_, darling, I never meant to imply that."

They'd both known she was lying, but he hadn't the time for that. "How is Braginsky being or not being here supposed to make things different for me? His right hand man—Yuri—he's capable enough. And he doesn't have Braginsky's bloodlust, either."

"Well, _ma chère, _I thought you'd understand, but…"

"What?"

"Yuri isn't going to stop you from destroying Braginsky's two sisters, now, is he?"

He mulled over those words. So she wanted Katyusha and Natalia's lives to crumble beneath them. And she was right—Yuri took special care to not meddle with the Braginsky family business, so what either of them did was not his jurisdiction. She was right—it'd be that much easier with the Braginsky gone.

He didn't know why Koroleva—that's all he knew of her name, and Klaus always referred to her as '_Miledi_'. He didn't know why Koroleva had such intense hate against both Katyusha and Natalia—she'd never spoken about Katyusha, but he knew she hated Katyusha more than she did Natalia. And as for Natalia…he had enough reasons to hate her already. And Katyusha was weak.

It'd be fun, like eliminating pests from one's line of sight.

* * *

"Where do you work?"

Al blinked, and looked at her. "Why this sudden curiosity?"

She turned from looking at the red light to his face. "I don't know. That's reason enough."

Al shrugged in agreement. "There's a small office in Scottsdale which is full of crack engineers who make designs and blueprints for different things. They design aeronautical parts—parts of ships and planes. They also make designs for military jets, planes, ships, and submarines, either on cliental basis or contract basis"—

"What's the difference?"

"It's the same, actually, but when designs are being made on a cliental basis, it's to the specifications of what the client or customer wants. If they want a specific type of weapon deployment unit, or if they want a certain wingspan—in the case of planes—then the designs are made on whatever they've listed and given to us. In contract basis, it's less strict, and people get to use their imagination more—the person buying the stuff just gives vague conditions, and they usually love it when a plane or a boat is made better than they imagined it, with more stuff, under their budget…wait, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah. So, anyways, once this small office of engineers make their designs, they send it to the clients, and if they like it, the clients give the green signal to let them make it. On this green signal, the designs are taken to a hangar or a dockyard—both are mainland—and they're created and assembled there. There is one hangar and one dockyard which are affiliated to this office I was talking about, meaning their only work is from the office and the office's clients. There are several other hangars and dockyards on contract, but the primary hangar and dockyard are connected to the office."

The light had turned green somewhere in the middle of Al's explanation, and Nat drove slower so that she could hear what Al was saying. "How are you connected to all of this?" Nat asked.

Al smiled smugly. "I run the whole show."

Nat blinked. "Everything? The office, the hangar, the dockyard?"

Al shrugged. "Pretty much. It's kinda hard to explain, so I just tell people I'm an engineer."

"Why didn't you tell me the same thing?" Nat asked.

"You wouldn't have believed me if I'd told you only that much. Oh, here we are."

Al got out, and hung the helmet from the hook beneath the clutch of the side carriage. "Thanks, Nat."

Nat's eyes narrowed as she looked at the crowd. They were obviously from the lower strata—Nat could tell by looking at their filthy clothes and tired faces. After all, she'd been one of them, too.

_Grubby hands, grubby faces, grubby hair. That's how you know if someone's poor, Nat._

_Are we poor, Big Brother?_

_We are Nat. But we won't be for too long. I promise you._

_I believe you, Big Brother._

But she knew that there was no reason as to why _Al_ wanted to be here. "Here? Alfred, wait," she said, grabbing his bomber jacket. "What's this place?"

Al grinned. "Why? Scared for me?"

"Alfred, stop it. What is this place?" He opened his mouth, but she knew where it was going. "Spare me the back story and just tell me what this place is."

"Well, it's a…well…it's a place where people"—

"_Bogi_, Alfred, I swear"—

"They're here for me."

Nat's jaw unhinged as she stared at Al. "What?" And she didn't even realize she'd squeaked that out loud.

"I'm an amateur boxer, Nat. And they're here to watch me fight."

* * *

**A/N: Good, no? I wanted to write a basketball play so badly, especially after ice hockey…but I just didn't feel like it today, and I didn't want to leave it off for later, so I wrote it today, since you won't be getting a chapter before next Sunday—I'm not giving a chapter before that, people. I have three exams consecutively this week, followed by a Competitive Exam next Monday, which is basically an exam which tougher than literally shitting bricks. Since you have no idea what AIEEE means, I won't get into all that.**

**The last bit was inspired from that movie Snatch—it's a Guy Ritchie film—where Brad Pitt's a gypsy boxer. I watched it for the second time, and I couldn't BELIEVE how similar he looks to Al…if Al had this sexy shadow stubble, then yes. I was going MAD over how to get Al to be a boxer while not making that his actual profession…I had Al's current profession in mind, but I didn't know whether to make him an engineer or a mechanist. So, he's both—plus he runs the show. So yay.**

**Did you guys notice I sat and named ALL THE EFFING CHAPTERS? Well, I did, and it took time, so please leave a comment saying that you saw it and you liked how creative I am and all that. Seriously, I need some self-confidence boosters.**

**Well, have a nice week guys…and whoever thinks I'm ignoring them, I'm not. I have only so many brain cells left, thanks to DCFL, and college is damn, damn tiring and hard and brain deadening. So I will reply to you, but I'll do it when I HAVE TIME. Which I do, only on Sundays, because all Saturdays are working. The next time I'm going to have holidays is during the May of 2015. I'm serious. So I love you all, but I'll take time in replying.**

**If you guys liked it even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love, **

**R. K. Iris.**


	29. Chapter 20: Branginskies go to church

**A/N: A big shout out to everyone who reviewed, one by one…I find doing this quite fun—**

**DV, thanku! I'm glad you loved that! I miss Matt, though…. :(**

**AnimeApprentice, you're right—Leonardo DiCaprio resembles Alfie a lot more than Brad Pitt…I can't get enough of Alfie! (*screaming and pulling hair*) And thanku for appreciating my chappie-naming skills!**

**Surprised much, Hoff? *evil grin***

**Thanku Em, for your continued support! **

**Ehehehe…Scarlett, by the time MFN's done it'll be all sorts of twisted—this way, that way and upside down, too…but I'm glad you took the time to review…it means a whole lot to me.**

**Awww, thanks, PAngel! Tomfoolery aside, that really means a lot to me—to know that although my games aren't a 100% legit, you guys still enjoy reading them.**

**All of you, thank you for taking the time to review and tell me that you appreciate it…I know this sounds all Grammy-awards type, but I really, really go through each day looking for your reviews, and I value each and every one of them.**

**And to all the Americans and Canadians reading this, a belated HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY! **

**Disclaimed: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

_This one's for the two guys in my life who listen to me rant day and night—Austin and Tushar. You guys say the same things others say, but it makes me feel all the more better, listening it come from you guys. A girl's lucky to have two best friends like you._

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 20

Nat's brain was a contrast in itself—her mind was tremendously active while being astonishingly blank. And as she blinked at Alfred, trying to settle what he'd said just in, the only thing she could think of was—

_I need to go have dinner._

"What?" she squeaked for what was the fifth time.

"I'm an amateur box—Natalia, this is the fifth time we're going through this! I really need to go!"

He really did look like a guy who had to run—he was shifting his weight continuously from foot to foot, as if he wanted to pee. But Nat wasn't letting him go boxing or peeing or otherwise until she got to the bottom of all of this.

"Does Matt kn"—

"He does…not…look, Nat, it's damn complicated, and I'll tell you later, but _I have to go_!" Al spun around and ran a few steps before turning back. "You are going home, Nat."

That did it for her. He couldn't hide stuff from Matt—which invariably came down to her—_and _tell her what to do. "_Net._"

Al hurried up to her and grabbed her arm. "Nat, look. You need to go home—these guys are dangerous"—

"I know exactly"—

"No, you don't"—

She grabbed his arm, and stopped him short. "I was one of them, Alfred. I know what it means to be them."

"Fine. Fine. I don't want you here"—

"Does your mom know?"

"Are you going to tell on me?"

Nat was offended, and her face made it quite clear to Al. "I do not go between a son and a mother."

"Okay, I'm sorry. Nat, go home, please."

She grabbed his jacket lapel and dragged him closer. "Next time, I'm coming."

His blue eyes were wide and startled, and he searched her eyes. All he saw there was finite determination and a 'try-and-deny-me' dare that he'd gotten used to seeing in those unusual blue eyes of hers. Slowly, a smile grew on his face, a smug grin that he knew irritated her. He saw that, too, in her eyes. And that just fired him up. "Maybe."

He watched her eyes flare up again, and he grinned some more. "How about wishing me good luck?"

"When I watch."

He made a distressed face, but his eyes were mocking her. "Aw, come on. What if they beat up my face?"

She didn't have it in her to act—she was as black and white as they came. "I would very much regret having missed it. I _am_ coming next time."

"Let me"—he yelped quietly when she suddenly let go, putting him off balance. He took two steps back, and shook himself slightly. "Go home, Nat."

"I do not have to—You do not have to tell me to go home, just as I don't have to tell you to go and lose."

He made a face, and broke into a smile when she rolled her eyes. "G'night," he said, touching a finger to his brow. She did the same, put her helmet back on, and drove onto the road, making her way back home.

She was greeted by delicious smells from the kitchen as soon as she opened the front door. She removed her shoes, helmet and jacket, and began removing her socks, just as Toris walked down the steps.

"_Sestra_. You're home," he said, standing before her as she stuffed her socks into her shoes. She nodded at him, removed her home slippers from the rack, and slipped her feet in. When she looked up, she saw Toris grinning at her, just the way he always had. When they were in Russia, she used to come back home just to see him smile, just to taste the dinner_ sestra_ made, just to play with Ravis and just to listen to Eduard sing. And then, they would turn around and welcome Ivan after a long day's work, listening to his stories of work, cleaning up after him, and doing as he said.

_All before we decided to leave_, Nat thought. She kissed Toris' cheek as she walked past him, knowing that he'd be looking at her strangely, but she just didn't care.

She walked into the kitchen, and saw Eduard, Ravis and Kat singing at the top of their voices about some old ditty Ivan had taught them while they were on the ship—he himself had picked it up from the sailors. And once the sailors had heard Eduard sing, they themselves taught the young boy everything they knew, joined in by the other passengers on the ship.

She was going to call up both of them—Ivan and Matt. She missed them both more than she cared to admit.

"Oh, Nat!_ S priyezdom_!"

Nat smiled at her sister. "_Rad, chto vernulsya_," she replied as Kat held out a spatula holding a bit of gravy. Nat dipped her finger in and tasted. "Salt."

Eduard passed her the salt shaker, he and Ravis still singing. Toris came in just as the third verse started, and opened the third verse dramatically. Nat and Ravis started laughing, listening to Toris' out-of-tune rendition, but nobody minded. Nat hummed as the four around her began singing loudly, and she got to setting the table. Toris and Eduard joined her, and when Kat began bringing the food in, Nat moved to help. Ravis got off the counter, and began serving everyone. Before the song was over, they were all sitting at the table, ready to eat.

They sang the last two lines, and applauded each other's performance. Nat felt tears forming in her eyes, and she could see tears forming in her siblings' eyes as well. It had been too long since they'd all sat down and had food like this, smiling at each other, enjoying each other's company. They began eating in silence, like they always did, but this silence was relaxed and comfortable, without the hurry of moving conversation.

That was, until Kat dropped the bomb.

"_Moi brat'ya i sestry_," Kat said, calling out to them, "tomorrow, you shall wake early."

All of them frowned and looked at her. Toris spoke. "_Poetomu_, _sestra_?"

"We are going to Mass tomorrow."

Eduard choked on his food, Ravis dropped his spoon to the ground, Nat's jaw unhinged and Toris looked like his sister had morphed into a fire-breathing dragon. And with uncanny coordination, they all squeaked, "_Chto_?"

Kat looked at them, the beginnings of irritation beginning to show. "We are Christians, and"—

"We're _Christians_?" Toris asked Nat, and she shrugged. "I didn't know we prayed to God."

"I want to be Buddhist, like Miss Wang," Ravis commented, and thumped Eduard's back twice, thrice, until he coughed out a piece of chicken. Eduard's gasping and rasping was the only sound on the table, and all eyes were trained on Katyusha's irate face.

"We are going to mass tomorrow-_voprosov bol'she net_!" she declared loudly. "No dinner for those who don't come. No dinner for entire week."

All of them blinked at Katyusha, who was attacking her plate of food with a vengeance. This was their first time seeing this side of their elder sister—no one had expected her to be so…determined on going to church. In fact, the very fact that they were _going_ somewhere public was shocking, since it was not too long ago that Katyusha hated going anywhere out.

Nat took one long look across the table, and sighed. "Fine, we're going," she said sternly. "But if we're struck down, it's _sestra_'s fault."

After that, everyone was in a hurry to leave the table.

They cleaned up the dishes, and Nat ran to her room, locking herself in, and took her phone out. She jumped into bed, and speed-dialled Matt.

_'This number is not available at the moment. Please try again later. Thank you._'

Frowning, she tried three more times, but it wasn't connecting to his phone. Troubled, she called up Ivan, who picked up after the fourth ring.

"Hello."

"_Privet, brat._ How are you?"

"Natalia! _Da, da,_ how are you?"

Nat smiled a little. "I heard how you scored a goal in your last game. _Pozdravlyayu_."

"_Spasibo._ How is everyone?"

"We're going to church tomorrow"—

She was interrupted by something she thought she'd never hear—his genuine, full hearted laughter. Her shock kept her from stopping him, then her curiosity, but irritation finally won over.

"_Bol'shoy_…stop it."

"_Izvinite, izvinite_, Natalia," Ivan apologized, but he still continued to laugh. Somewhere between his chortles, she managed to get a sentence in. "Where is Matt?"

"You want to talk to him?"

"His phone"—

"Oh, _da, da_. We were all boating when we were in Skattsy when that _durak_ got up and fell in. He lost his wallet and his phone in the lake, and he stank like a fish. Do you want to speak to him, _sestrenka_?"

"_Da_."

"Wait…" Ivan calling out to Matt was muffled, and Nat counted up to nine before the phone was shuffled between hands.

"Hello."

"_Privet, _dear friend."

She clearly heard Matt gulp over the other line, and her ire grew. "H-Hello, Nat"—

"You are so screwed, _dorodoy drug._ _YA ubyu tebya_."

"Nat, I'm sor"—

"Doesn't cut it, _tovarishch_. Try again"—

"I missed you."

Nat sighed, and settled into bed. "I missed you, too. You should've called."

"I should've. I didn't. I'm sorry."

This was why she adored and felt like murdering him—he never ever justified himself, and people never gave him the space to justify himself, either. "What are your days like, now?"

As she listened to him, it was clear that he _didn't_ have time to raise his head, let alone call. His day started at four in the morning, when the entire team woke up and trained in the chilly weather outside till about seven. They ate six small meals during the entire day, full of protein, carbohydrates, vitamins and minerals, with nearly zero fat and no alcohol. They trained till the afternoon, then took naps or watched tapes. In the evening, they trained on weekdays, roamed around in the weekends, and after their dinner, they would discuss strategies and run through plays, and they'd be flat by the time they hit their bed by nine.

"It's tough, _da_?" Nat murmured. "How come you aren't asleep?"

She could hear him grin over the phone. "We staged a mutiny."

"Huh?"

"We didn't wake up before five thirty today. So Coach Tino gave us the day off—well, half of it. We slogged the entire morning, and our evening was off, so nearly everyone went outside to shop and stuff. Ivan rented a movie, and we were watching. Diego wanted to go get ice-cream, so we're waiting for him."

"Isn't that bad for you?"

"We eat once in a while, Nat—and we got Coach Tino's permission. That matters."

Nat grinned. She loved it when he talked like this—uninhibited, passionately. "What's the movie about?"

Matt began grumbling to her, and she realized _how much_ she missed him—she missed his quiet presence, she missed how he could keep her grounded, she missed the steadiness that came with him. But she missed seeing him smile. That was what she missed the most.

She heard her brother tell him to stop watching the movie if he didn't want to, and Matt replied to something in Russian, startling Nat.

When he got back on the phone, Nat asked him, "You know Russian?"

"I know swear words." Nat laughed, and he continued, "It's hard not to learn when your brother's always muttering in Russian."

Nat grinned, and something in her stomach pinged. "What does '_YA dumayu, chto ya lyublyu tebya_' mean?"

"Wait, what?"

The fuzzy feeling in her stomach grew warm. "Golden words will not be repeated, Matthew. Ask Ivan."

"Nat, what aren't you telling me?"

_I think I love you._ "We're going to church tomorrow."

"When did this happen?"

"_Sestra_ wants to go to church, we are going. Is it good, going to church?"

"It's peaceful. I like it—Oi!"

There was heavy shuffling on the phone, and Diego's voice came through. "_Senorita, _I'm really sorry to"—

"Diego, _durak_, give it back. I want to say goodnight"—

"Natalia! _Mi amigo_—how are you?"

"Irritated. Now give it to Matt."

"I'm"—

"Giving it to Matt. Diego, please."

There was a short silence on both ends. "How are you, darling?"

Diego's voice was soft and kind. "I miss him. I miss my best friend."

"I'll give it to him. Good night, Natalia."

"Good night, Diego."

The phone exchanged hands, and Matt's voice calmed her down. "What happened? Diego seems serious…I can't put my…Nat, what happened?"

"Nothing. Good night, Matt. Don't forget to call."

"As soon as I get a phone. Good night, Nat. I'm giving it to Ivan."

"Good night."

"Good night."

Ivan got the phone, and her brother's voice felt familiar and steady to her. "Goodnight, Nat. Tell your sister I'll call her up."

"Don't call up when we're in church. Do you think God will strike us down?"

"I don't believe in Him or Her, Nat. But I really hope He comes of help to you."

"_Brat…_"

"_Spokoynoy nochi, sestrenka_."

"_Spokoynoy nochi, bol'shoy brat._"

Nat cut the call, and put the phone down next to her, letting Matt's voice play in her head, his soft voice being the last thing she could hear before she fell asleep.

* * *

The whole church didn't hush, like Nat thought it would. People just looked at them, and smiled at all of them—Nat just nodded in return, while the rest of her siblings smiled back sweetly. They walked into church, not knowing what to do, so when Alice called out to them, they felt relieved.

"Katyusha, Nat—come here!"

All of them walked into the pew, and Nat's eyes locked with brilliant blue eyes, and she raised an eyebrow. They shuffled in, and Nat found herself sitting next to Alfred. He looked at her, and she saw the bandage on the side of his face. "No black eye, no broken nose?" she whispered. "I'm disappointed."

"He just caught me _once_, Nattae. I was done in ten minu"—

Nat snorted. "As if."

"You don't believe"—

"Stop whispering, Al!"

"Sorry, mom," Al replied, and they watched as the pastor got onto the dais. "Not ten, but I won it."

"How much?"

"Money? Pittance. But it's great fun."

"Getting beaten up in such settings does not define _fun_."

"For you, maybe, but I love the rush. It's not for the money—I have enough of that. It's just something I do."

"What about all the sports you used to go coaching for?"

"I prefer being a lone player. I can't explain it, Natalia, but that's the way it is." He turned to her, and read the message clear in her eyes. "I'm not saying that all the money my parents spent was for waste. I do make use of that. It's just something I…"

"Don't explain," Nat said. "I get it."

They kept quiet for a while, listening to the pastor's soothing voice. Nat looked down the row—she and Al were sitting at the edge, Kat was sitting between Alice and Toris, Eduard was next to him, and Francis was between Eduard and Ravis, who was sitting next to her. She played with Ravis's hair while she looked at the pastor.

"When's the next one?"

Al looked at her with a slightly pained expression. "You aren't letting go of me, are you?"

Nat just smiled smugly.

"Fine. I don't know when, exactly, but I'll take you with me next time."

Smug and content, Nat sat back.

-x-

"Katyusha."

Kat turned around, and found herself staring into sleepy, olive eyes. "Ray! _Privet_."

He smiled at her. "I saw you in Mass today."

"I saw you sleeping today in Mass," Kat said, and found herself giggling at his lost expression.

"You are Christian, Katyusha?"

"I used to be. I do not know. Wait, I shall introduce you to my family. Come with me."

Ray caught Kat's wrist softly, gently. "They look busy."

"They'd love to meet you, Ray," Kat said gently, turning her grip that their hands were clasping each other. "Come on."

Kat led Ray by the hand, and walked to where her siblings were standing. "Nat, Tori, Ravi, Ed, meet Heracles Karpusi. Ray, these are my brothers and sister, Toris, Ravis, Eduard and Natalia."

"You gave her the cat," Nat observed. "Sonya."

Ray nodded, and looked at Kat. Her sweet grin had him smiling as well. "Do you like her, then?"

"_Da_. She's soft and cuddly and very"—

"She's very cute," Toris said, and smiled when Ray turned to him. "Thank you."

_The eldest of my younger brothers. We found him first, amongst a group of beggars. They drugged their children so that they always slept. He was barely four, and his mother was drugging him. Ivan dragged me away the first time—he said I wasn't to get involved. It was not my business, he said. A week later, when we saw it happen again, Ivan couldn't keep quiet, and neither could I. He told me to go and complain to the police that they were using…you call it 'Ice' over here. I was to say that they were using Ice, while Ivan kidnapped the children. He gave all the children to the gang overlords' wives, who took good care of them. We left Toris behind, but Ivan had loved him the most. And then, when I found him, bleeding in an alley…I couldn't leave him behind. Ivan was angry—Natalia was staying with us by then. He didn't want to take care of another child. But Toris…we couldn't leave him behind twice. _

Ray knew why they couldn't leave Toris behind. Even though Toris mostly kept a poker face on, his smile was enough to tell Ray that Kat couldn't leave a sensitive and vulnerable child behind like Toris.

"I want a dog," Ravis said and pouted, yelling when Nat twisted his ear.

Ray looked at Kat, who was smiling regretfully at Ravis. "It's a big thing, _brat_," Kat explained. "I don't"—

Ray looked at Ravis. "A friend of mine has a dog who gave birth three months ago. He's been able to give all of the pups away except one. Would you like to go see the pup?"

"Ray"—But Kat kept quiet, looking at Ravis beaming at Ray. "Of course! I—If _sestra_ allows," he said, and turned to his sister for approval.

Kat sighed. "Go, then." She turned to Ray. "Can cats live with dogs, then?"

"Strays can't. But pet cats can be taught to."

Kat turned to her brother, giving him the sternest expression she could. "One pup. That's all."

He beamed at her, excitement radiating from him. He turned to Ray. "When?"

"We'll go this evening."

"_Da_! _Spasibo_!" Ravis exclaimed, jumping up and down with joy. Ray got a small smile from Nat, and blinked at the startling beauty of Katyusha's younger sister.

"Would you like to join"—

Nat stepped down on Toris' shoe, and turned to them. "We'll go ahead. Mr Ray, drop her home, and make sure to come in. Let's go."

At the last bit, all of them said their goodbyes to Ray, and began walking away, wondering what was wrong with Nat. She shooed them on further, and then turned around to take one last look at her sister, smiling at the powers of the female intuition.

With the image of Katyusha's hand clasped in Ray's, she walked away.

-x-

"Eat with me, Katyusha."

It stunned her how his eyes were full of simplicity and…it wasn't innocence. It was honesty. He was simple and honest and it stunned her to know there were simple, honest people in this world. She trusted him more than she had any other man who wasn't one of her brothers, but she didn't trust him completely. Rather, she didn't trust his reactions. She trusted no man's reactions.

And Ray was a man.

But there was something different about Ray…she wanted to be with him.

"Tomorrow," she said softly.

"In the afternoon. It's important."

Kat frowned, and took a step back. She didn't like the sound of this. "What is it?"

"I have to tell you something."

"Tell me now."

He took her hand, and began walking briskly. Kat stumbled the first few steps, but caught up before he could stop. She slipped her hand out of his, suddenly feeling cold. She pulled her shawl closer to her, and walked behind Ray. She didn't like this. She did not like this at all.

She looked up, and realized he was taking her back to the church. There was nearly nobody around—they had all gone back home for Sunday brunch. Kat hadn't eaten anything, but yesterday's heavy dinner held back most of the hunger pangs she was feeling. She had never seen Ray so…active. He always looked lethargic, and he mostly was asleep—he had a bad habit of falling asleep whenever she was in the middle of saying something. This behavior of his was rather…confusing.

He pushed open the doors, and closed them behind Kat. Kat took a few steps forward—the church looked so different without all the people in it. It was…serene.

"Come here," he spoke quietly, and she turned to see him standing by the last pew. She frowned slightly, and slipped into the pew. She sat down, and Ray sat before her.

"Ray"—

"Are you hungry?"

"I have time for food later. What is it?"

Ray took a deep breath, and started. "I hail from a small town by Athens, a few miles away. My father is the priest who has kept the old traditions alive, and my mother is a farmer. They met on the other side of Greece, near the coastline—they had never told me where—and, at the time, my mother was a nun. She fell in love with my father, who was passing by, and denounced her religion, since she believed she couldn't be faithful to it. She ran away from the Church and my father, and settled down in our town. My father was a wandering nomad priest who went from village to village"—

"Ray"—

"Please. My father moved from village to village, telling people the practices of yore, telling old stories to their children and telling people that God wasn't there to judge us—he was there to protect us and love us, and bring bad times to us so that we came out from them, stronger than before. People loved my father, but my father only loved two—the One God, and my mother.

"They found each other in my hometown, and got married. I have three sisters and four brothers, and I'm the eldest. I have my father's nomadic blood—I've roamed around for the past ten years. I believe in what my father says, and I've tried to understand the different religions and their Gods. I've tried to not wrong anyone, but Katyusha, _mou glykó_, I have wronged you."

All thoughts of confusion and hunger were lost, and all that was left were the icy fingers of fear. "How have you wronged me?"

"Katyusha, I was the priest you confessed to that day."

Katyusha blinked, not because of her confusion, not because it was taking her time to register his words—Kat had an extremely sharp mind, and it didn't take her long to realize what he meant, or the enormity of what lay behind those few words. No, her mind was working beyond that, further ahead, and she realized one thing.

Her worst fears had come true.

But…

She looked at Ray, who was profusely apologizing again and again. She opened her mouth to call out to him, to stop him from apologizing, but the words gushed out before she could formulate them.

"Do you hate me?"

It didn't take him too long to stop. He looked up at her. "What?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath. She didn't want to know his answer, but she had to. "You know everything about me. Do you hate me?"

He blinked at her, confused himself. "Why are you asking me this?"

Urgency was creeping in now. "Do you hate me, Ray? Yes or no?"

Ray stared into her face, unable to understand why she looked anguished and torn. But all he owed her now was complete and utter honesty. "You are my hero, Katyusha. I will never be able to hate you."

One by one, the clogs inside her started vanishing—the fear in her head, the fear paralyzing her body, the barriers around her heart, the barriers surrounding her emotion, her soul. And the pain and the love and the hate and anguish of all her life came gushing to her, changing into happiness as his words reverberated in her head, again and again.

_You are my hero, Katyusha. I will never be able to hate you._

Tears formed in her eyes, poured down her cheeks, but they were not of sadness—they were of joy, relief, and the peace that she got from hearing those words, the peace that she got from being in the House of the Great Lord.

_You are my hero, Katyusha. I will never be able to hate you._

Kat sobbed into her hands and Ray watched her, but he knew those weren't tears of the agony those pale blue eyes carried the last time he saw them. She kept whispering something again and again, and when he realized what it was, he drew her to him, wanting to lock her up somewhere deep inside him so that nobody could hurt her anymore.

"_Spasibo_, Ray," she whispered, again and again, "_Spasibo._"

And they sat there, in the last pew of the Church, surrounded by the cleansing atmosphere, feeling baptized by the tears of joy that they cried before the Holy Lord Himself.

* * *

**A/N: Not much action in this chapter…hopefully, when I get around to writing the next one, there will be more.**

**For those of you who ****_still_**** don't know why Kat was crying, it was because she was scared that Ray would hate her for her past. And when she found out that he didn't find her repulsive…she's suffered a lot of trauma in life, guys. And Fate's rewarding her with a kind of guy some of us have to search our entire lives for. And she was—is—grateful.**

**For all of you waiting for hands-on AmeBel, it'll probably be there in the next chappie—probably. Idk…I know you guys won't do it, but it'll be helpful, knowing what your AmeBel fantasies might be so that I can incorporate it into MFN.**

**I was reading the chapter called 'Cubans and Steamy Cubicles', and I was gushing over 5 reviews then. Thank you, all of you, for bringing this author's self-esteem up and giving her 110 reviews. Thank you all, so, so very much.**

**I miss Jani and Adei… ;(**

**If you guys liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	30. Chapter 21: All we do is fight

**A/N: Adei, you're back! …Now I really, really miss Jani. And DV. ;(**

**I'm only alive on Sundays, so that's the only day I get on my laptop.**

**Had the suckiest Math test ever, with negative marking…the range was from -30 to 90, and I'm assuming I'll be getting 42…that's a good score, I think. **

**And I got 54—yosh!**

**DCFL has nerdified me, people…I feel lost on unexpected holidays.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

_There's a difference between a teacher and a guru. For doddamma_

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 21

Nat picked up another peanut from the bowl, cracked it, and popped it into her mouth. "You're going to stay in Resshouse overnight?"

Francis nodded, popping another sliver of cheese into his mouth, making rather loud appreciative noises as it melted over his tongue. Alice rolled her eyes. "I swear, you are the only man who gets orgasmic over eating cheese," she muttered, popping two peanuts in her mouth.

Nat raised an eyebrow, but the adults weren't done. Francis smacked his lips appreciatively. "Me and all Frenchmen, _mon cher_. And you didn't seem to mind the cheese you put all over"—

"Ahem," Nat said loudly, watched as Francis watched a blushing Alice through lidded eyes. She didn't particularly care for Francis' gutter mind, but it was rather disconcerting to see Alice blush like a schoolgirl. "How many matches left?"

They looked up. "Another five," Francis said. "The last time I called Matt, I spoke to Tino. Zwingli told him that a lot of big names have taken interest in a lot of the boys, and they're planning to snatch them up as soon as their season completes. Tino doesn't know whether to be happy or sad."

Nat didn't know either—that just meant she wouldn't see Matt or Ivan for a longer time, and it wasn't just three months anymore. She looked at the tablecloth, rolling the peanut between her fingers, thinking quite solemnly.

She wanted to see both of them immediately, but she didn't want to ask Francis or Alice for anything—they themselves were going to the match being held the next day, and they couldn't book tickets for her at this late an hour. And asking one of them to let her go in their place was a though that didn't cross her head. She'd never seen Alice so dedicated, even when it came to Al. Francis regularly attended both Al's and Matt's games, but Alice was rarely in town. Nat knew Alice was going around telling people that she was expanding business, but Nat knew what she truly meant.

So she asked them the next thing she could think of. "When's the next match?"

Alice and Francis stopped mid conversation and looked at her. Alice frowned. "I think it's against J.R. if they win…I don't know whom they're up against otherwise." Alice looked at Nat closely for a while, then finally said, "Once the match's over, I'll send you a message. But I know it's a week from now."

"Nat, _mon femme_, how about you and your family all come together for the next match? I know Katyusha misses him a lot. I can only imagine how much the boys miss him."

Nat nodded. "And Miss Wang. She misses both _brat_ and Honda."

"Wait…Wang and your brother? Really?" Alice squeaked, and Nat and Francis exchanged looks. Francis sighed. "I'll let you know all about it on our way there, _cher_."

"Speaking of which, we need to go," Alice said, eyes on her wristwatch. She turned to Francis, and nodded at him. "Okay, then." She turned to Nat, gave her a hug—she knew Nat wouldn't say no to anything from Alice, even her cooking—and looked at her. "Well, take your wallet and jacket—I don't want to know what it's doing in my son's room. And make some posters for the next match, okay?"

Nat smiled a tiny smile and nodded. Francis walked up to them, and turned to Nat. "Take care of the restaurant and yourself, Natalia—you're more than capable."

"_Spasibo_," she said, and Francis knew that much of Russian to recognize the phrases. "_Adieu_, Natalia."

"Goodbye, luv," Alice said, and the two of them made their way outside the house and to the car. Even as it sped away, Nat waved goodbye to both of them.

She went in, and closed the door behind her. Francis had told her in the morning that Alice had found her jacket and wallet in Matt's room, and that she was to take it before they left for Resshouse. Alfred wasn't at home—he'd gone to rent a movie.

Nat moved upstairs, to Matt's room, and took out all of his art supplies and a huge chart paper, thinking about what she could do. Since she was supporting him, the least he could do was provide her with his supplies.

-_two hours and fifteen minutes later-_

She heard a squeal followed by a yowl, and she looked up. She'd been at it for two hours, and the poster was nearly complete. She stuck on some more coloured handmade paper, but the third scream of pure fear jolted her from her concentration. Growling at the tiny crease at the side of the paper, she got to her feet and made her way downstairs.

The lights were all switched off, and the television was emitting eerie blue light. Alfred, sitting opposite it, was draped in it, his glasses glinting in the light. He was hugging a pillow, with a bowl of popcorn beside him, watching the movie with rapt attention. Nat watched as he took popcorn with a shaking hand, and pushed it into his mouth, chewing slowly. A scream erupted from the screen, and Alfred yelled his lungs out, diving behind the pillow and chanting for it to stop.

Nat rolled her eyes, walked to the TV and pulled the chord out. Even as Al raised his head, she went around switching on all the lights, wondering how much more stupider a man could get.

Apparently, he could get a lot more stupider than she thought.

"Hey, hey—Nat! What are you doing?"

"Stopping your incessant"—Nat growled when Al grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the switchboard.

"I was enjoying it!"

"You looked like you were going to pee all over the couch, you _bol'shoy rebenok_."

Al blistered. "I'm not a big baby! That was scary!"

"I'm trying to help you and save my ears."

"I'm trying to watch a movie"—

"Through a pillow? Wow."

Al opened and closed his mouth like a rather angry fish, and it looked hilarious. "I'm leav"—

Al grabbed her hand and looked at her with big, pleading blue eyes. "There're ten more minutes"—

"Watch it during the day. Now let me"—

"It's no fun during the day. Nat, ple"—

"You didn't look like you were having fun. Alfred, let go of"—

"Ten minutes! Please!"

Nat looked at him long and hard. "Popcorn's mine."

"Fine."

"And I'm leaving. After ten minutes. Whether you like it or not."

Al nodded, and Nat snatched her hand from his grip, trying to ignore the aftereffects of the heat that had been singing her nerve cells.

Al pushed the cord into the socket, switched off the lights and sat next to Nat, who'd already begun devouring the popcorn. He switched on the telly, and they began watching.

Nat didn't even know which part of it could be called scary, but Al was perforating her eardrums, yelling like a banshee. The third time he was going to yell, Nat was ready, and she stuffed his mouth with popcorn as he took a deep breath. He kept mewling the entire time, rolled up against Nat, and she became the substitute for the pillow—every time something popped up from nowhere, he'd bury his face in her shoulder, muttering for all of it to stop. Nat froze every time, cursing herself for even agreeing to be with him.

He was doing things to her system, and she didn't like it.

The movie finally ended, and so did the torture—Nat felt more haggled than anything, because every time Al grabbed hold of her, she'd jump, too, and not because of fear. As the credits rolled, she pushed him off her, got up and switched on all the lights, and Al turned off the telly.

She turned to him, surprised to see him beaming at her from ear to ear. "Wasn't that fun?"

She wanted to kill him, but she didn't want to so much as touch him again. "Joy. I'm leaving. Goodnight."

She turned around, heard him get to his feet, but she didn't care. She walked back to Matt's room, took her jackets and wallet, and moved back down again.

"Hey, since it's late, you want to eat something?"

"No," Nat said point-blankly, and moved to the door. "Even if you're ordering takeaway, it's going to be something greasy and oily. I want to live without diabetes or cholesterol," she said, and turned to him. "And no, there's nothing under your bed. I checked."

"Thank you, mom," Al muttered.

"But I heard something scratch your cupboard, so you better be"—

"Nat!"

Nat laughed. "You deserve it, _durak_."

"I hate you."

Nat just smiled as she pulled on her boots.

"And listen. The next match's day after tomorrow—are you coming?"

Nat laced up her boots. "I said I would. I'm getting my own ride. Is your bike fixed?"

He nodded. "Can't really survive without transport."

"Maybe someone slashed your tires, like in that movie."

"Nat, shut up."

"You shut up." She straightened, suddenly aware of how close he was. "Night. See you tomorrow."

He pushed his glasses up. "Thanks, Nat. And goodnight."

She shook her head, and walked out, realizing that he'd called her Nat the entire time.

But what surprised her more was that she didn't mind.

* * *

"So, how is the plan working_, moy dorogoy_?"

He was actually pleased, for once. Koroleva had made dynamite-up-his-ass Klaus leave the room, and there was nobody there now. "Arlovskaya's going to be there. I'm putting Tash for the job—best pickpocket on this godforsaken island."

"Has Klaus given you the chip_, mon fils_?"

There was something about the way she said that that sounded very familiar to him. "Not yet."

"Once he gives you the chip, ask your comrade to fix the chip in her mobile, then slip in back into her pocket. It is important, _moy dorogoy_, that she doesn't know she's being pickpocketed. _Da_?"

"I told you, Koroleva, that Tash is the best."

"And don't let anyone see you."

He laughed. "Koroleva, she's going to a place where people see what they're paid to see, and nothing else. And they're going to be too busy looking at the distraction I've set up."

"Take care of the little details, _mon fils_. They count more than anything else."

That was the end of their conversation, he knew, but something else was nagging him. "Koroleva, who told you about Arlovskaya doing…what she did?"

"Getting some doubts, my lad, on what I've told you?"

"You made it quite clear. But I've kept observing her for a while now…she doesn't seem like the person who burn"—

"My late husband told me, _moy dorogoy._ He wasn't the cleanest of men, but he was the keenest. And people never change, my darling. The only time a person can change is after death. But then, it's too late."

"Do you believe that?"

Her laugh chilled his soul. "My darling, I _know_ that."

* * *

Nat rolled the Harley a ways off the large godown-barn, and parked it behind some huge shrubbery undergrowth which could be sighted from only a certain angle. She pulled her sweatshirt on and zipped it till her neck, flipping the hoodie on. Ever since Ivan had left, Nat and her brothers began protecting themselves using concealed weapons. Eduard always wore gloves, so the discreet metal knuckles went back on. Ravis carried modified tasers, and Toris always had two guns and a pack of razor-sharp, metal edged cards with him. And as for Nat, she carried her knives. Plus, all of them had attachments on the soles of their shoes which allowed a retractable knife on each shoe.

Nat let two knives slip down, the top of each end touching the base of her middle finger. She walked, eyes and ears wide open, but there was no trouble waiting for her. Still, it did no harm in being cautious—people still hated 'ruskies'.

The further she walked towards the godown, the more people joined her, and all of them stared at her with tired, resigned eyes. She let them stare; it didn't bother her. None of those eyes had any malice or intent to hurt. Although armed, she didn't want a fight to break out—it wouldn't do her any good to fight against a whole melee of stronger, brawnier men. Even if one started the fight, the others would join in. Nat wasn't completely in shape, and that irritated her. She was going to start training again.

She slipped into the crowd, her brown hoodie not standing out, and made her way to the barn. Before she entered, she looked at the rapidly darkening sky, and then stepped inside.

The insides of the barn were all lit with swinging yellow bulbs that cast more shadow than light. The maximum light was at the centre, where a stage had been erected—a sturdy looking boxing ring with a cage that could be dismantled. Nat decided to walk slowly around the ring, taking in all the nooks and crannies and all those corners swathed with shadows.

She wasn't the only one walking around, although there were more groups than loners like her. People were huddled together, and she caught strains of their conversations as she moved around, revolving around the meagre pay, the slave-driving employers and the bewitching bottle of whiskey. Nat knew of men like them—they existed everywhere. As long as there was money, there would always be people without it, no matter what the currency was. Some men were trying to get their children out of the vicious cycle, some men were trying to drown themselves in the bottle and some men liked life just the way it was, where they could beat their women and drink themselves dead.

The largest groups were around two different corners of the barn, and Nat guessed that to be where the two boxers were. She moved back to the exit, and stood there, waiting for the action to start.

She didn't have to wait long. A man, dressed more flashily than the rest, got in the ring, even though his shiny clothes couldn't hide his grubbiness. As soon as he got on, everyone looked up and began walking, as if hypnotically, to the ring. Nat waited until everyone was at the ring, and then stood a bit away from the crowd, searching for a high place to stand. The ground was quite uneven, and Nat found a mound on which she could stand. By then, the man had already begun speaking, and Nat only caught the last bit.

"…from the red corner, it's Alfred X. Jones!"

A loud roar rose from the crowd as Al got on the stage, and Nat realized why they put an 'X' in his name. A large, black Christian cross with a white fringe adorned his upper arm, the black and white ink rippling over his muscular triceps. Nat watched him prowl the ring, wearing nothing but a pair of black jeans with another cross, similar to the one on his arm, stitched in white over the left leg of his jeans.

_Cross_.

She frowned as the thought flashed in her head. She knew a man named Cross, who was her brother's worst enemy—she wasn't unaware of her brother's occupation with the underworld, and as his role as a man with great power and respect there. However, there was a man in Scottsdale whose connections ran deep into W City, and he openly opposed Ivan's growing power in W City and the surrounding areas. Nobody knew his name or his nationality—he supposedly didn't, either. He called himself Cross, and he was allegedly part American, part British, part Russian and part something else, but he called himself 'all-American' and hated Ivan with an intensity that Nat—or Ivan, for that matter—didn't understand.

Nat shook her head and watched Al move. There were no other women there, but Nat knew for a fact they'd all line up to have a pound of that sculpted flesh and that tight _zadnista_—Nat knew she wanted a piece herself. It shocked her to see what Alfred Jones Bonnefoy hid from the rest of the world, and it shocked her to see beyond her own perception of him.

Hard, lean muscles rippled underneath tanned skin marred by scars over his stomach and chest. The shadow of developed abdominal muscles was light, but prominent. His arms were ripped with bulged veins running over his arms, and his broad chest moved slightly with every breath. There was a shadow of a stubble on his face, and his eyes…

Nat didn't recognize those eyes as Al's, but she knew the ruthlessness in them from her brother's.

She didn't know this man, she didn't recognize this man…and it was scary, watching as her image of him crumbled into a tiny pieces, leaving her as blank as a slate. The fact that she didn't know who or what he was and could be chilled her blood.

As she watched him move, the man continued to announce the opponent, who also walked into the ring, a large, beefy man with a big, bald head. Nat knew from experience that he didn't have any flab—it was all rock hard fat and muscle.

Nat wanted to walk closer, but she would be able to see then. She stood there, and watched.

The two men began circling each other, flexing their bound hands, gauging the other's reaction. The bigger man reacted first, throwing a punch at Al's face. Al moved back, blocked the next one, ducked the next. The man's fists soon became a flurry of attacks, unrelenting, pushing Al to the corner.

Al ducked and jumped out of the way, oblivious to the boos he was getting from the crowd. He moved to the side, and when the next punch came, he threw his first.

The man blocked it, but wasn't quick enough to block Al's fist to his stomach. It threw him off balance, and that was what Al wanted. Al began stepping into the larger man's space, throwing one punch after another, pushing him straight to one corner. The man's defences were spectacular, and not a single punch got through.

But Al was clever. He stepped back for a moment, and threw a punch right at the cheek when the man lowered his hands. He threw another at his face, meticulously pounding it to a pulp, but Al couldn't finish what he started. The man grabbed one fist, pushed Al back, and dragged Al towards him, burying his fist into Al's stomach with so much force that Al coughed out blood.

He threw Al back, punched his gut again and again and again, but before he could finish it off with a knockout to the face, the bell rang. Spitting in Al's direction, he went back to his corner.

Two men hurried into the ring and helped Al into his corner, pouring water on him and working on his wounds. Nat walked to the side, trying to get a better look at Al, but just closed her eyes at the sight of his stomach.

She felt a tap and opened her eyes, but no one was there. Realizing how foolish it was to do something as unguarded as that, she walked back to her mound as the second round began.

Both men were dripping wet, slick with water and blood, but Nat could see the controlled fury on Al's face. This time, Al started, but the man's defence was too good. After a set of wasted punches, Al moved back to try and hit him harder, but the man was faster. He moved in, and Al brought up his arms to protect himself. Realizing he was just wasting his energy, the man moved back and ran, all two hundred twenty pounds, into Al, ramming him into the corner metal pole. Stepping back, he began pounding Al's face, but the referee dragged him off.

Nat didn't even know her hand was at her mouth, but it was. She watched as Al got off the pole, his whole body slouched, his hands swinging in front of him, walking drunkenly towards the centre, where the referee was holding the man back. He asked Al something, who nodded, and moved back.

And before anyone could blink, Al's fist shot out and broke the man's nose.

No one moved as Al stumbled out of the ring by himself, the large man's unconscious body falling to the ground behind him. The loud sound snapped everyone out of it, and the men who'd dragged him to the corner ran to him, helping him out of the place.

Nat cut through the crowd first, running out, but the three men were nowhere to be seen. As she looked around, her mind began whirring, and she made a quick decision.

She moved as quickly as she could to her Harley, turned it on, and roared away, back to W City. She reached the Bonnefoy house and parked her Harley, looking at her watch for the first time.

Der'mo, she thought as she read her watch. It was 8:47 p.m. She had to be at home.

She turned to leave, but a light came on. Determined to see this through, she moved to the tree by the playroom, and hoped to God that the branches could still sustain her weight.

The steps Francis had carved in when they were kids were still there. She climbed the trunk, and got onto the old wooden platform Francis had constructed, hoping it wouldn't break. She made her way onto the thick branch, moved along the edge, and jumped into the balcony of the playroom.

There was a mechanism to open the lock from outside that was kept a secret from nearly everyone else, but Nat knew. She fiddled with the knob, then stepped back when it opened. She walked in, closing the door behind her, moved through the playroom and walked into the corridor of the house.

Al was coming upstairs, and he looked somewhat better. The images of him stumbling in the barn moved before her eyes, and she shook them out. "Jones."

He looked up, and frowned, but smoothed his features when it began to hurt. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Honestly, she didn't know. "I came to check on you."

He slowly shook his head, and made his way up the last few steps. He gripped the banister, trying to gain his balance, and cocked a finger at Nat, motioning her to come to him. Frowning, she walked to him, trying to look into his eyes, but his head was bowed, and his hair was falling over his eyes. She stopped before him, and before she could think, Al took a step forward and pulled her into him.

Nat froze as his hand wrapped itself around her waist and his head rested on her shoulder, not knowing what to do. She flexed her hands, wondering whether it was a good idea to push him away from her, but he began speaking softly into her ear.

"Thank you, Nat," he whispered. "We won't talk about this, ever. I promise. But I need you now, for the next thirty seconds. Then I'll close my eyes, and you can go, and I'll pass out on the floor or something." He tried a feeble laugh, but the pain cut it short.

"I'm putting you in be"—

"I won't pass out, I swear. I was just joking, Nat."

"The man was punching the _der'mo_ out of you, Alfred."

"I broke his nose, and it sounded good. Exactly why I need you here."

"Huh?"

"I had to hug a two-hundred-twenty pound beefcake. You're much more pleasant in comparison."

"I have knives underneath my jacket."

"As long as you're not a porcupine with knife-quills, I don't care if you have your entire cutlery set underneath you. You smell good, Nat."

His voice was soft and warm over her skin. "You smell disgusting."

"Mark of a true sportsman."

"Shut up."

He rested his head on her shoulder awhile. "Are you scared of me now?"

"Not really."

"Hmm." He sighed. "Will you come to the next one? It's in two days."

"Will you be alright by then?"

"I've done three consecutive nights, Nat. This is nothing. You won't see anything by tomorrow."

"You are _not_ coming to work tomorrow."

"I am. Dad's going to kill me."

"…Do they know? Your parents?"

"Dad knows. He taught me how to fight. Mom…would probably break my arms or something."

Nat chuckled. "That she would."

"Are you coming, Nat?"

"I don't know."

"I'll ask you tomorrow, then, okay?"

"Hmm."

"Goodnight, Nat. And thank you."

"Night."

Al straightened, and let go of Nat. She stepped away from him, and walked down the stairs. Looking back at him one last time, she made her way outside, letting her breath shudder out of her body.

Whether or not she was scared of Alfred Jones, she didn't know, but she was certainly scared for what she felt around him.

* * *

Al placed his kit bag down on the bench, and watched as Nat looked around the training room. She turned around and looked at him. "Do you train here?"

He shrugged. "Once in a while. I coach the kids here once in a while, so they've given me the keys, and the let me use this place to train."

She frowned. "What do you coach them in?"

"MMA—Mixed Martial Arts," he said, binding his knuckles in cloth. "I heard you knew MMA."

"I did. I've started training again."

He grinned and threw another wad of cloth at her. "Want to spar?"

Nat caught it, and thought awhile. She began to frown again. "You are a boxer, _da_? Then why"—

"The match tomorrow's for Mixed Martial Artists—it's a different crowd."

Nat slowly began binding her hands. "Which do you like better?"

"Both. But in the MMA matches, they don't steal your stuff after a K.O. I usually try to last for three rounds, but the day before was a bit…much. Still, I like it. I'm going to warm up. Tell me when you're done."

As she warmed herself up, she realized that Al was a rather interesting person—he was more than the loud, boisterous, annoying guy that she'd thought him to be. He was always involved in some or the other thing, and he had a way of getting people to do things with him, too. There was never a quiet moment around him, but Nat didn't mind.

She realized she liked this change.

She didn't like it when he got too close, but he'd kept his word—they'd never talked about that…weird moment again. He looked as annoying as ever when he came in the previous day for work, and all the signs of a pulpy face were gone—when Nat needled him, he said it was his secret, and that was that. He kept his distance, and she didn't mind being around him for that reason. Even otherwise, his company was quite enjoyable.

Nat warmed up, and looked at Al, who was busy doing jacks along the length of the court. Nat smirked, and called out, "Oi, monkey! I'm ready!"

He stuck his tongue out at her, and jogged over to the middle of the room. "Come here," he said, still jumping up and down. Nat walked slowly, working out every muscle she had meticulously.

"If you get a cramp somewhere, I'll die laughing, I swear," Al said as he got into his stance.

Nat just blew her hair out of her eyes, and smiled belligerently.

Al moved first, with a kick directly towards her head. Nat moved to the side, and got into his personal space, punching his face even as he got back onto both his feet.

Al stumbled back from the blow, and blinked at Nat.

"Always wanted to do that," Nat said, smiling, and moved in.

She spun on one leg and swung the other high in a circle, the force behind it so great that she could've cracked a disc in his head if it'd connected. He duck, and attacked, but she jumped back before either punch could connect. She stepped forward, kicked him in the shin before he could dodge, and aimed a punch at his stomach, but he was quicker than she anticipated, and she hit a rib.

Still, something was better than nothing at all.

They moved back and forth, in a small, tight circle, neither relinquishing their personal space while trying to invade the others. The mock game grew serious, and the attacks grew faster, harder. Al knocked the breath out of Nat's lungs with a punch, and sent a fist to her face. She ducked, and blocked his knee with her hand. She moved back, and backhanded him with her fist, sending him off balance.

She swung, he ducked. He tried to regain his space by aiming an uppercut at her chin; she stepped back, and threw a fist at him. She blinked when he grabbed hold of it and whirled her around, moving his hands underneath her arm and locking his fingers behind her head.

She screamed, but had the sense to lock her hands behind his head. With a growl she stomped down on his foot, but he moved it away just in time. In that split second, when he was balanced only on one foot, she threw her entire body weight backwards, making them both fall down.

She turned around and got up, but he'd pinned her down with his leg, and no matter how much she struggled, his iron grip held hard. But somewhere in the middle she slowed, and stopped unknowingly, suddenly becoming conscious of not only his presence, but of _him_.

She was on top of him, one leg squashed beneath his, the other pressed into his thigh. She could feel her heartbeat, and his thundering heart seemed just as close to her as hers did. Her hair fell over his shoulder, and the stark difference between her silver-blond locks and his bright yellow hair was apparent. Her eyes moved from their hair to his eyes, and those electric blue eyes were so close…

She didn't know who moved first—she would never know—but the thought left her mind as soon as his lips were on hers.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what to feel. But he did.

His lips slowly moved on hers, coaxing, inflaming her senses. His hand cupped her cheek, moved into her hair, drawing her closer to him. Her chin rubbed against the stubble on his face, the sharp sensation making her gasp. His tongue slipped in, and her mouth felt…

She was on fire.

The flames reached him; the next second they were drinking out of each other, trying to drag the other's soul into them with a feverish urgency. Her hand gripped the sides of his shoulders, trying to anchor herself in the explosion of heat that seemed to bubble her brain to liquid and steam her rushing blood. The soft sighs grew louder, and a throbbing filled Nat's head until it was all she could hear.

_Stop_.

Her eyes flew open, her grip on his arms tightened. With a growl she pushed herself away from him, looking at him with large eyes full of…

She didn't know why, but she felt betrayed.

"Stay away from me," she whispered harshly, and got up. When he grabbed her wrist, she did the only thing she could think of.

The slap ricocheted in the large room. His grip on her wrist loosened, and she stepped away from him, pressing her burning fingers to her pants.

"I deserve that," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Natalia."

"I was beginning to…think…" Oh fuck, her throat was clogging up. "I was thinking of you as my _friend_. And friends don't pull such shit on each—stay away from me, and I'll stay away from you."

"Maybe being friends was never a good idea," he whispered, and laughed, pained. "I'm going to have to tell mom that it's going to be impossible for us to be friends."

That hurt. That really, really hurt. But Nat had her own wounds to lick, and she needed to be away from him. "I-I know it's my fault, too. _Izvinite_, Alfred"—

"Leave, Natalia."

He turned away from her, and she turned away from him. Her walk turned to a jog to a run, and she was starting her Harley and roaring away, even as tears streamed down her cheeks, thinking_, Why the _fuck_ did he have to do that_?

When she would look back, a year from then, she would assume that her personal Hell would start on a date a few weeks from then.

But she would have no idea that it had started from right that moment.

* * *

**A/N: Scarlett's not going to be there for a while, so she's going to miss this chappie…people, y u no leave reviews? They're my lifeline! Even though I won't reply immediately, you should know that I treasure everything you write for MFN or any of my other stories in a place for precious things inside me.**

**For those of you wanting a pure AmeBel, check out my other story '**Awfully Close**'—it's quite good. And for those of you who love this chappie, let me know you do.**

**I have my Chem test tomorrow, same format as Math, and I have two more lectures to go…AARGH! I'm going mad.**

**If you liked this chapter even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	31. A little detour from the original track

**A/N: I'll be taking this down tomorrow, so no one has to go complain...I'm sorry, guys, there'll be no chapter this week. It's been a goddamn hellish week, and tomorrow's another version of hell, so I'm busy on that front...for all of you waiting for another chappie of MFN, I'm sorry, it's not coming today. I'll try my best to put something good up by mid-week, but until then, here's what's been happening on Gilbert and Elizabeta's side...**

* * *

"You look like death."

"Elizabeta"**—**

"It's just an observation," Eliza said quickly, gathering the pile of discarded clothes and moving to the workbench at the other side of the shop. where she usually folded or ironed the creased clothes that customers just loved leaving behind. She looked at Gilbert, who'd put his head on the table, and sighed. She wasn't going to make that trip to the workbench after all.

Disregarding the fact that he had his head there, she unceremoniously dumped the mountain-load of clothes right atop him and moved to get herself a chair, smiling slightly at Gilbert's muffled protests. Still, it didn't alleviate her worries that all seemed to revolve around him recently. She picked up a chair, turned around, and narrowed her eyes at the pile of clothes that Gilbert had transferred from atop his head to the ground. He glared right back at her, and she rolled her eyes. She walked to him, and put the chair down next to him.

"You put them down, you're going to help me fold them," she said as she picked up a red blouse.

"I don't hear you telling that to your _awesome_ customers," he muttered grumpily, but he picked up a tan shirt as well, and began folding.

"Leave the creased ones. I'll have to press them later," she said, and they began folding in silence. Eliza knew Gilbert well**—**he grumbled when he had to do something, but once he started doing it, his concentration was like no other. Even when they were in University and she had to tutor him, she realized that he had an amazing ability to grasp and comprehend, one that went beyond her. Since she was just above average, she began comparing him with Alice, and saw that he came a few scores below her, which was quite amazing.

But the young, crazy lad had _never_ possessed dark circles and weary eyes**—**amongst the trio, it was a sin to look...un-young. That was the word Antonio had used, earning him a whack from Eliza's metal bottle and Alice's hardbound storybook. She didn't mind him looking 'un-young' as much as she did him being mentally and physically exhausted.

And as his best and dearest friend, she had to tell him that.

"Gilbert"**—**

"Leave it alone, Elizabeta."

She fumed indignantly. "I will not! Gilbert, you're"**—**

"Tired and exhausted and irritated"**—**

"And hungry."

He smiled a little. "And that." He looked at her, and shook his head. "Elizabeta, we've talked about this before. I'm not going to listen to you."

"But Gilbert, you"**—**

"_Eliza._"

She looked at him as he flung the trousers he held back into the pile exasperatedly. "I am _not_ going to stop coming here"**—**

"I'll hire three other people"**—**

"I'm still not going to stop coming here. You are going to study"**—**

"And you're going to take some rest. Gilbert, you're running yourself to the ground."

"You don't look so awesome yourself."

Eliza's eyebrow raised. "Are you making comments on my looks?"

Gilbert gave her a smug smile and leaned back, crossing his arms. "_Ja_."

Her eyes narrowed further, but she remembered she wasn't there to argue with him. Sometimes, it would become too easy to forget what she wanted to do when he started to argue with her. Shaking her head, she looked at him, resolute. Seeing his tactic of distracting her had failed, he cursed under his breath.

Eliza slammed her hand on the table. "I'll study if you stay tonight."

He slammed his hand right back. "Done."

In the silence that followed, they looked at each other, their words slowly dawning on them. Like mirror images, both of them became pink at once, breaking eye contact immediately, wondering what to say to the other. Eliza began cursing herself for being impulsive and not thinking for that mandatory second before opening her mouth.

"I...ah..."**—**

Gilbert rose, the chair grating against the floor as it moved back. She looked up at him, and saw him fishing through his pockets. "I'm going to call Wang, tell her I'm not coming," he said, looking at her, the pink over his pale cheeks looking adorable. "I don't have to...ah..."**—**

She shook her head. "I have some of your stuff here, you don't have to get anything."

He nodded, and moved past her, placing his hand on her head to ruffle her hair, but Eliza caught it before he could move away. Even as her mind screamed at her motives, she turned around and looked up at him. Since impulse had gotten her here, she'd see the rest of this with the same impulse.

He looked at her questioningly.

"Thank you," she said gratefully, and pressed a kiss onto his knuckle gently. His smile grew gentle, tender, and he moved his hand over her cheek, cupping it. He tilted her head up, and kissed her on her forehead with a gentleness she seldom saw, but knew it existed. He smiled into her eyes. "You don't have to thank me. I'm always going to be here for you, Eliza."

She gave his hand a light squeeze, her face full of the thanks she couldn't possibly articulate. He pushed her forehead gently with his knuckles, and turned away, walking outside to make his call.

Eliza turned around, not knowing what to feel, not knowing what to think, not trusting herself to do either. But she was grateful, grateful to him, grateful to God, grateful to anyone and everyone who was responsible for making it possible for her to finally do what she wanted to do, for giving her what she truly needed, what she always needed.

She knew a lot about Gilbert, but she'd only come to believe his integrity and the value of his promises.

Maybe, with him, everything was possible.

* * *

**A/N: I'd originally wanted to make it just an Author's note, 'cause I didn't want to write anything, but writing's so addictive you can't imagine it (unless you need writing as much as I do, of course)...I'm not going to remove this, since this is quite an important part of the actual storyline, although I haven't had the space in any of the previous chapters to write it down.**

**If any of you remember the little walk they had outside the arcade in Chapter 9, Gilbert wanted Eliza to become a teacher, and part of his plan is to work at her boutique so that she could get time to study...but he's already got four other part time jobs—********as a bartender in Chun-Yan's restaurant, as a coach along with Mathias Kohler, as a step-in for Ludwig in his job at the chocolate shop, ****__****and ********at Eliza's boutique. She does hire that extra help, but...a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.**

******Well, I hope you enjoyed this...it's been an absolute PLEASURE for me, writing after a week...I'm exhausted by the time the week ends, and yesterday I had a sleep-a-thon for twelve hours...and I was still a leetle bit exhausted. But I promise by at least midweek, or at the latest next Sunday, another chapter of MFN will be up...but do leave reviews and tell me how you feel.**

******If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

******Love,**

******R. K. Iris.**


	32. Chapter 22: Revelations & reconcilations

**A/T: **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 22

Nat looked around the excited dinner table, and didn't bother hiding her smile. Katyusha had gone all out and prepared an enormous dinner, and Nat had decided to call the Wang family along. When Toris went into the kitchen and emerged, he'd declared that they needed more, and had gone and called the Bonnefoys. Nat had kept quiet—she would've loved to see Alice and Francis over at her home, since theirs was a second home to her and they'd never been over. As far as she remembered, she'd never had any of the Bonnefoys at home, and they'd never asked, since they knew the problems Ivan and Kat were having, adjusting to the new place. Even afterwards, Matt had never asked her, and she'd never asked him to come over, either.

She knew they'd happily jump to the idea, and she didn't mind. But the thing was…

She'd crossed the line.

Technically, she and Matthew weren't going out, but Matt…Matt was her comrade. She owed too much to Matt, and he held her in too high a stead. Matt was much more than a comrade. And doing something like that with Alfred…

True to his word, they never spoke beyond monosyllables, and to most, it looked like they were back to being their normal selves. But, back then, it didn't hurt as much as it did now.

Even if it was for a short time, she and Al had been really good friends.

He'd filled the space Matt had left wide open in a completely different way. He tried to make her feel comfortable and…un-alone. She could only think of that. He tried to fill up that loneliness, and she missed him now.

It was horrible.

The loud laughter at the table snapped her out of it, and she looked at Chun-Yan and Kat laughing heartily about something Yong-Soo said. She'd never seen Kat this happy. She'd been too young when they left Russia to remember anything, and her memories were starkly clear only after Kat had gone into severe depression…she was indebted and grateful to Chun-Yan. Nat's eyes fell on the near-asleep figure next to Kat, and decided Heracles Karpusi was also a key factor in her sister's happiness. If he so much as played with her, it would be a sad, sad day for him indeed.

The bell rang, and Nat got up. She motioned Ravis to remain seated, and went to get the door, the lively conversation falling into the backdrop as she walked to the door.

She opened the door, and welcomed Alice and Francis in. Francis stole a pat on her backside, and she kicked him in the shin for that. As he recovered, she turned to Alice.

"Al's not coming," Alice said. "Said he had some work to do."

Nat didn't know whether to feel relieved or sad. For some reason, she couldn't imagine him in her house. She didn't know why. And she really didn't want to talk to him, so…still, it was a lame excuse.

Nat ushered Alice and Francis in, but Alice held her back, and Francis walked to the dining hall, unaware of his wife not following him.

"Nat, did something happen, luv?"

"It's nothing, mama Alice"—

"I haven't seen my son so furious than I have the past few days. Did something happen between you two?"

Alice wasn't going to let go of her unless she said something. She sighed. "_Da_. We had a…fallout." That was the best she could do.

"Is it something so bad that you two won't talk to each other again?" Alice asked.

This time, Nat answered truthfully. "I don't know, mama."

Alice chuckled. "My darling girl, if I got married to that man even after all we've been through, then I don't think this can't be patched up. If you've apologized already, do it again"—Alice sighed. "I know you don't want to talk about this—you're as obstinate as he is."

"I'm nothing like him," Nat muttered.

"If you say so, luv," Alice said, and walked into the dining hall with her.

Introductions were made all around—Alice and Francis knew the Wangs, but they had to be introduced to Ray and Sonya, Kat's darling _koshka_. Plus, Alice fussed about how much Mei, Yong-Soo and Kaoru had grown up, and Chun-Yan and Francis had to hurl abuses at each other before everyone settled down at the table. Soon, most of them busied in stuffing themselves full, and Nat thought it advisable to make her announcement then.

"Let us all go for the next W City Wolves' match."

Her brothers looked at her with surprise, but the rest of them didn't hear her. So she said a bit loud, "Oi! Let's all go for the next Wolves' match!"

That got everyone's attention. Nat was a stranger to such attention, but she knew how to handle it. "Except for mama Alice and the Bonnefoy, none of us have gone for a match outside W City. Ravis and Eduard went on their own for the one against G.J., but it's been quite a long time since I've seen any of them. _Sestra_ hasn't seen _bol'shoy brat_, and Miss Wang hasn't seen Honda for a long time. It's this Sunday, so I guess we could all go."

"Where is this one?" Mei asked.

"Carmen."

Toris blinked and regarded Nat closely. "That's really close by," he said, gesturing with his fork. "We could all go half a day before, or we could probably go directly for the match."

"Carmen has amazing beaches," Alice added in. "Remember that time we all went to the beach?"

Nat and her brothers grinned. "We should leave Saturday evening, then," Ravis suggested.

All of them began talking at once, and Nat looked around again. Kat was asking Ray whether he wanted to come, Chun-Yan and Alice were already booking the tickets from Alice's phone, Francis and the boys were alternating between the eye candy at the beaches and the statistics of the players at Carmen. Nat felt like the wallpaper, but she didn't mind, not really.

If either Al or Matt were there…

Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe actually seeing Matt and talking to him would make the difference.

Maybe things would get better.

* * *

"Has the bug been installed, _moy mal'chik_?"

"Yes, Koroleva."

He could hear the smile in her voice. "_Merveilleux_. Wonderful."

"I'll ask Tash to talk to her"—

"No."

He blinked at the abrupt interruption, but before he could question, her silky, smooth voice came from the phone again.

"No, Cross. Your right hand man shall not talk to her."

"Then…who"—

"You see, Cross, _I_ want to talk to her.

* * *

"Natalia, _mon ami_, will you"—

"I'll close up," Nat offered as she removed her skates. She opened the door, placed them against the wall right by the door, and closed the door. She turned, and saw Francis beaming at her through his fatigue. The day had been exceptionally busy, and Francis was a little out of sorts.

"Who's going to take care of this place on Sunday?" Nat asked as she moved to the kitchen, putting everything back in place.

"Alice is sending some people from her other restaurants. The people who came today, along with those people, will be working here."

"I'm going to pull the shutters."

"Good night, _cher_. Take care."

"Good night, papa Francis."

Francis left ten minutes later, repeating what he'd said before, and Nat spared him a glance and a goodbye before she went to shutting the place down. It took her another ten minutes to get everything in place for the next day. Finishing up, she went back to the staffroom, pulled her jacket on, and got her knives in place.

She pulled a black skullcap on, and walked outside, locking up behind her. She was walking to her Harley when a vibration in her pocket made her jump.

Her right hand inched closer to the catch-lock system that she had under her sleeves which would release the knife to her hand, and her left hand went to the pocket, finding her phone. She walked to her Harley, sat down on the seat, and switched it on.

"You shouldn't be so cautious, _mon ami_ Natalia. Nobody's going to hurt you. Not unless I do something about it."

Nat's blood chilled at the smooth murmur of the feminine voice that seemed to slip right through her skin. "Who is this?"

"Oh, _dorogoy_, you mustn't interrupt like that. Didn't your brother teach you any manners? And," the voice said just as Nat opened her mouth, "don't bother cutting the call, _cherie_. This call ends only when I want to."

Even the brisk night wind couldn't chill her insides, line her airway with frost that made it painful to breathe. Her voice was so soft, so mellifluous, so…She knew that strain. She recognized insanity when she heard it, and she knew danger, even if it was hidden behind a silky soft and quiet tone. "Says who?"

"Since I consider you such a good girl, I'll tell you. There's a certain device attached to your phone, and I have the button with me here. Now, if I press this button, the phone will blast into your ear, and even if you throw it away right now, it won't stop me from creating a large explosion which will, in the end, hurt you. So, Natalia, _moy dorogoy,_ don't cut this call. You _are_ going to listen to me."

"You know my name. I want to know yours."

"You're that curious, Natalia? Fine. People call me Koroleva"—

_They call you 'Queen'?_

—"but you can call me Ella. Most people don't know that, Natalia. But I know so much about you."

_We'll see_. "When did you attach this device?"

"At a certain godown, while you watched a certain Bonnefoy being beaten to a pulp." Nat's mind quickly raced, made the connection, and the lady at the other end continued to speak. "Speaking of the certain Bonnefoy, it's not advisable to get close to one brother while the other's away, Natalia. It only brings misery to everyone involved. Are you still _plokhaya devochka_, Alia?"

Natalia's frowned. Those words seemed so familiar…and when she recognized them, she froze. "How do you know that?" she whispered hoarsely.

"You're a bad girl, Alia. I thought you'd become good, but you didn't change, did you? You still steal. You never stopped stealing. Now, you're stealing from your employees even while you call them 'mama' and 'papa'. Isn't that ironical, Alia? Wasn't"—

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Tch, tch. Swearing, Alia? You _are_ a bad girl. Did Braginsky teach you to swear? When you were a little girl, Alia, you never swore. But you still called them mama and papa. And you stole from them."

Natalia was speechless, and the lady continued. "Did the Braginskies put you up to it, Alia? To go and steal from the people who're feeding you, who're taking care of you? I wouldn't be surprised. Your brother never did change. He never will. He'll still be the coal cleaning _ublyudok_ he always was, and his sister…it's impossible to survive with a dangerous man like him, isn't it? Did your sister teach you how to make him happy, the way she keeps him happy? She should have. Then, you could have probably been his who"—

"Let me tell you something, _Koroleva_," Nat started, seething with an anger she was struggling to hold back. "I do not know what you talk about, and neither do I care—your words mean nothing to me. Blast my phone right now—I'd be deaf than listen to you slander my family"—

"You do not mean than, _mon ami_"—

The way she said that was eerily similar to the way Francis said it, but Nat dismissed it as a dialect that their family or their parents probably shared. Either way, it didn't matter. "You know things about me. You know things about my family." Nat got onto the Harley, turned it on, comforted somewhat by the smooth purr of the powerful engine beneath her. "But your words can't hurt us." Nat moved out of the parking area, and moved onto the road, one hand on the phone, the other on the handle of the Harley.

"Maybe you have all the time in the world, but we have a life to live. It was nice talking to you, Ella, but I really hope we never speak again." Saying so, Nat moved the phone away from her ear, wondering if Ella's insanity involved mental delusions as well. But when she saw a beam of red light emerge sharply from an opening in her phone, Nat threw it away without second thought.

The explosion was loud and damaging—the bushes where Nat had thrown it all caught fire instantly. Shards of metal pinged on the road behind Nat, urging her to push her Harley onward faster. Nat moved away to a safe distance, turned and watched, her mind growing numb with disbelief, as the fire burnt up the bushes with a roaring blaze. Pieces of the metal body were lying on the road, some burning, some red-hot.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

"I've spoken to her, Cross. I hope you take care of the rest."

She didn't wait to get his reply. She knew he would do it. She cut the call, and placed the phone by her table, her eyes straying to the ceiling to floor glass walls that made up one part of her room.

She slowly walked to the glass panes, drawing her dressing robe closer to her. She shifted her blonde hair off her shoulder and placed a hand on the glass pain, watching as the snow fell into the balcony outside.

It always snowed there. Her late husband had always complained about it, but she liked it. She liked the quiet the snow brought along with it. It allowed her to think.

And ever since she'd come here, she'd done nothing but think. It felt good, unbelievably so, to finally put her thoughts to the test.

So far, so good. Alia's reaction hadn't strayed from what she personally had thought it would've been. The younger woman hadn't disappointed her. It was a lot like the reaction the Braginsky male had given her, which annoyed her, but that didn't matter.

The wheels were moving, finally moving.

Alia was probably the only other female she respected, but she pitied Alia. She pitied what life had dealt her, and what she herself was about to deal the poor girl.

Alia and Ivan did not understand that knowledge was power, that knowledge was everything. The lout she'd married understood that, and she respected his methods of discovering that knowledge. Her fingers made doodles on the icy glass pane. Her fingers would scribe only one name—not the man she'd married, but the man she was born to marry, the man she was born to complete.

She smiled as she drew out a heart on the icy pane. Alia thought that she had a life, did she?

Well, she was going to take a lot of pleasure in completely and utterly ruining her 'life'.

* * *

Nat looked at the huge crowd, and gulped softly. It was so 'huge'…huge was an understatement. Even though they were outside the stadium, the crowd seemed to be stagnant and moving at the same time. Nat had never seen a crowd so big, and it stunned her to know that so many people were coming to see the match.

They were coming to see Matt and Ivan and Honda and all the boys of W City, and that made her proud.

She turned to Mei and Ravis. "Let's barge through and get the tickets verified."

Ravis looked as terrified as Nat felt, but Mei felt at home—she worked in, around, over huge crowds. This was every day for her. Mei turned around and told Chun-Yan what they were going to do, and Chun-Yan agreed.

"You guys go on, aru," Chun-Yan said.

"How many of us?" Nat asked just as Ravis began counting. "Nine…twelve," he said, counting the Braginskies, the Wangs, the Bonnefoys and the lone Karpusi.

"Fine. We'll get the tickets verified and wait there. Nat, Ravis, let's go," Mei said, and started dragging Nat away. Without even realizing it, Nat grabbed hold of Ravis's hand and the two of them staggered behind Mei for a while before catching their balance.

All three of them began making their way through the crowd. The crowd grew more compact as they neared the kiosks, and it was harder to move through. The three of them didn't let go of each other's hands, linking their fingers as they moved. Mei pushed right through three men and two teenagers who didn't seem to have an inch of untattooed skin on them. Nat smiled slightly at the sight of one of the teenagers who'd pierced his face practically everywhere. There'd been a time when she'd dragged Matt with her to the body piercing shop, and watched as _he_ moaned and writhed while _she_ got the piercings. It hurt like hell, but it was totally worth it, since she got her hands on more material to tease and rag Matt with.

_"Now what little brain you have's going to pour out of all those holes."_

Her smiled died out as Alfred's words played in her ears, but she didn't have time to ponder on them—Mei had already pushed through the entire crowd, and they were nearly at the kiosk which sold the tickets. Mei tapped her foot impatiently while Ravis, standing behind her, turned back and searched the crowd for their family. Nat turned slightly and kept an eye at both of them.

Mei was so impatient that Nat felt relatively calm-tempered and sweet in comparison to how she was snarling at the line and at the guy in front of her. They moved quite quickly, but the efficiency of the management wasn't pleasing Mei. Nat felt weirdly detached from the entire situation, since Mei and Ravis were seemingly more tense than she was. So she kept looking around absently, moving her head to the beats of the song she was humming, and it was while doing this she sighted someone she'd just recently pushed out of her mind.

And that's when she felt even impatient than Mei.

As soon as Mei procured the first verified ticket, Nat snatched it from her hand, and ran out of the line, leaving Ravis wondering behind her and Mei explaining how she was related to Nat to the person manning the kiosk.

Nat sprinted to the entrance, handed her ticket to the security-in-charge, quickly pocketed the other half, and jogged, looking this way and that. And when she sighted the shock of golden hair _just_ that colour, she ran towards it.

She came up behind him. "Jones."

He turned around—it was him. "Natalia." He looked behind her. "Where're my parents?"

Nat turned around, catching her breath now. "Coming…along. Listen"—

"I'll go"—

Nat swore and grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "I have something to say to you."

He just raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, me too. The match's going to start."

"In fifteen minutes," she corrected, and swore again. "Let me at least apologize,_ chert by tebya pobral_."

"For what?" he said. Nat watched as bitterness creeped into his eyes, and steeled herself for his words. "I'm the guy here, Natalia. I'm obviously the one at wrong"—

"I'm sorry, Alfred."

Al blinked, not expected that. He straightened, shoved his hands into his pockets. "What are you apologizing for?"

_"My darling girl, if I got married to that man even after all we've been through, then I don't think this can't be patched up."_

"For crossing the line…I shouldn't have done that."

"You're taking—come here," he bit out, grabbing her wrist and dragging her to the side. Nat fell into step, not really enjoying being dragged around like a gunny bag. They went to a corridor that ended into the staff's room, and Al faced her. "Why are you apologizing? And," he said, stopping her before she could actually say anything, "you're taking the entire blame, too."

Nat sighed. "Even though mama Alice put you to it—unless you were just saying that to hurt my feelings"—

"Even though my mother put me for it, Natalia," Al interrupted, "my mother didn't have to push me for it. It wasn't a chore."

_And now_, Nat thought, _for the tough part._ "You were a good friend to me, Alfred."

Al blinked at her, and muttered something very softly, but Nat could feel his sadness. He pushed his glasses up. "You're not the only one wrong or wronged, but you're right. Let's try again."

Al looked at her, and she read the message clearly—_But it'll be a lot harder._

She didn't mind—she just wanted a friend. "Alright." But she didn't know what to do after that. Al took one look at her confused face and burst out laughing.

Nat's cheeks pinked as she took in Al's laughter, outraged, but when he didn't stop laughing, she punched him on his arm. "_Chert_"—

His arm went behind her, and he gave her arm a light squeeze. "Sorry, sorry," he said, leading them out. He dropped his arm, and looked at Nat. "So, truce, then?"

She nodded. "Truce."

"What's your seat?"

She fished out a crumpled piece of paper. "K-54-Y. You?"

"K-47-A. Well, I better find my seat," he said, and turned to her. He opened his mouth to say something, but he paused, considering his words. "I'm sorry, Natalia, and I'm glad we're friends again."

Nat nodded, not able to say anything.

He saluted her farewell as he walked backwards. He turned, and walked away, leaving Nat standing there. She suddenly shook out of it, and rushed to the stadium, trying to find her group and her seat, thinking about what he'd said.

She was glad, too.

*x*

"Where were you?" Alice asked as she sighted Nat, who'd found the group after a lot of searching.

Before Nat could answer, Mei shot up from behind Alice and grinned at Nat. "We went and supported the team!" she exclaimed cheerily.

Nat fumed silently, killing Al over hundred times as she sat down between Alice and Mei.

"Where were you?" Mei asked, dragging Nat closer.

"Somewhere where I wish I wasn't," Nat muttered, partly meaning it. "I thought I saw Alfred—I had to apologize to him," Nat said firmly, ignoring the nagging voice which was telling her to lie. Natalia Arlovskaya did not lie. She turned to Mei as another thought occurred to her. "When's the match starting?"

"Ten"—Mei saw what Natalia meant. "Go to the corridor, and run down the first left. You'll get a set of stairs and there'll be a board which will tell you where"—

The horn blasted, and the crowd got up and roared.

Without bothering to complete her sentence, Mei pushed Nat out of her seat and into the corridor. With a small, curt 'thank you', Nat ran up the corridor and out of the bleachers, leaving Mei feeling a curious sense of deja-vu.

"Where's she going now?" Kat asked.

And smiling, Mei gave her the same answer she'd given to the nice lady handing out the tickets. "To do something important."

Kat just shook her head and turned to Ray who, surprisingly, wasn't asleep. The sight of Sonya on his head brought back the calm discussion he'd had with the authorities at the gate whom he'd convinced and gotten Sonya in, and she giggled. And her giggle was enough to attract his attention.

"Hmm?" he asked, turning to her. Kat reached out and scratched Sonya behind the ear, eliciting a shudder of delight from the cat. Smiling a small, saucy smile, Kat moved her hands down, pressed her fingers to the spot behind _Ray_'s ear, and slid her fingers down with the slightest of pressure, struggling to hide her grin when _he_ shuddered just like the cat had a moment ago,

He caught her hand and began playing with her fingers. It was a new habit of his, to keep himself from falling asleep when she spoke to him. She turned her hand into his, squeezed it tightly.

Alice saw that quiet, intimate gesture and leaned in towards Francis. "It's really good to see Kat so taken by the young man."

"Do you think he'll leave her, _mon ami_?"

"I'm going to kill him if he does."

Francis chuckled. "And I'll help you. But something makes me think he needs her as much as she needs him.

Alice nodded. "I hope he can make her happy."

"He already is, _cher_," Francis said, giving his wife's arm a light squeeze, "he already is."

*x*

Nat was just out of the bleaches when the announcer's voice blared from the speakers, interrupting the music that had been playing the entire time. Cursing her bad luck, she stopped, a hand on the glass pane that served both as a wall and a sky view of the rink, but the rink was too far away for her to make anything out. Quickly deciding between the two, she decided to make her way to the locker room so that she could at least meet someone.

With the announcements of referee names going on in the background, Nat ran along the corridor, one eye on the first left, another at the rink. And when that diverging track appeared, she had her last glance at the rink, and took that left.

The speakers were everywhere, and even otherwise, she could make out what was going on simply by the insane noise levels from the stadium. She hurried down the path, found the stairwell just as the Carmen Sharks made their way onto the rink.

_-two minutes later-_

Nat realized two things as she moved around:

1. She had completely and utterly missed the W City Wolves entering the rink, and

2. There was no way she could see _anyone_ even if she found the locker room

3. And that she was totally lost.

That was three things, but the enormity of the last one dawned onto her as she looked around, wondering exactly _where_ the hell she was, and whether Mei had concocted the damn board from her imagination or not.

There was no TV, the stub of her ticket was in her pocket, she wasn't in her seat and all the information she was getting was from a bloody _speaker_—it had got to—

"Nat?"

She spun around, and hugged—yes, hugged—Peter Kirkland, nearly flinging him off the ground.

Peter gasped as his breath was pushed out of him, and took in a deep draft when Nat let go of him, catching his breath quickly as she asked, "How are you?"

"I'm—what are you doing here?"

"Searching for the green room."

"If you've come to see the boys"—

"I'm going to settle for a TV, Peter."

He sighed. "Come right this way," he said, turned around, knowing that Nat would follow him.

Peter had grown, Nat realized as she followed him. He'd developed more buff and more muscles, and he looked very well-toned, which made Nat wonder how the players looked. In her impatience she nearly bumped into Peter thrice.

They reached the locker room, and the first thing that caught Nat's eyes was exactly how _messy_ it was—it was like a bedroom they all shared and mutually messed up. And the second thing that caught her eye made her smile. She walked towards a locker which was partially open, a sweatshirt hanging from the top of the open edge. She held the blue material in her hands, ran her thumbs over her own creation, her gift to Matt, and raised it to her face.

It was his. It was him.

She heard a click of the TV, and lowered the sweatshirt. With one last squeeze, she left the sweatshirt and made her way to where Peter had switched on the TV and was sitting.

"Were you going to head out?" Nat asked him.

"Yeah," he said, "but you're here now. I can't very well leave you alone, now, can I?"

His Scottish brogue was more pronounced now, and Nat wondered how. "I"—

"I'll talk to mom after the first period, see what he'll say," Peter said, procuring two cans of beer, popping the lid on one and handing it to Nat. "Until then, it's you and me here."

Nat placed her can on the table, walked back to Matt's locker, took the sweat shirt, and returned. She sat down, hugging the sweatshirt to her with one hand, holding the beer in the other hand.

"Nat?"

"_Da_?"

"It's good to see you."

Nat smiled as she ruffled Peter's hair. "It's good to see you, too."

And they sat there, drinking beer and watching the action unfold in the television in front of them.

* * *

**A/T: Abrupt ending, I know, but…yeah.**

**I don't know if I'll be able to write up another chapter as soon as Sunday…I probably won't be able to, but the next chapter that pops up will be on a Sunday…or if I'm feeling restless, it'll be up earlier. Hey, I don't know—I'm hard pressed for time. I'm supposed to be doing my Bio records right now and I need to submit five exercises in Maths tomorrow—three from logarithm. So, yeah. I'm not doing what I'm supposed to be doing.**

**Well, whatev. I love writing. Bleaugh.**

**Well, guys, read '**Awfully Close**' if you like AmeBel. And go enjoy life and leave a review so that I enjoy mine.**

**I'm half dead right now.**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	33. Chapter 23: Crossing the line

**A/T:**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 23

The players moved around the perimeter of the rink, warming up, as their stats flashed on the screen. Nat watched the lineup, as well as tried to get glimpses of those sitting at the benches. The lineup for the first period from the W City Wolves was Bonnefoy, Honda, Beilschmidt, and the Sharma Brothers, with Rodriguez as the goalkeeper. The Carmen Sharks, dressed in blue and white, sent their captain, Jason Astel, leading Ted Yarby, Ostin Maere, Joseph Teller and Chris Altato, with J. Cardinal as their goalkeeper.

Nat couldn't believe how fit, how muscled, how all-professional the players looked on the ice. There was a certain air to all of them that she'd never seen before, ever. Some of them had their helmets on, and her brother wasn't one of them. His face was all hard angles and planes, with a firm jaw and determined eyes. Warriors they were, all of them, and now it showed in all their faces, in all their movements. Matt had got his helmet on, and she could see shadows, glimpses of skin, and his calm blue eyes steeled with focus and willpower.

"He grew a beard," Peter commented, and Nat choked on her beer. Unmoved, he continued, "he left his razor in Weldstein, and he just kept forgetting to buy a new one. Plus, he hates using other people's things—he's really particular."

"_Da_," Nat muttered. "I know." And that's when her eyes truly fell on Peter, and she wondered why he wasn't on the ice as well. "Peter, why aren't you on the ice?"

He tilted his head towards her, but he didn't take his eyes off the screen. "Hmm?" When she repeated her question, he turned and faced her. "I was born with one leg shorter than the other, and they had to put a rod in one of them when I was really little. It's not there, of course, but the wounds play up if there's moisture or if I've already played before. I played the last match, so I'm just going to sit around for this one." He turned back to the screen. "Besides, I can't go and sit up there—I can't sub anyone, so I was going to while my time away until they came in after the first period."

Nat didn't know what to say, and wisely kept her mouth shut. She turned back to the screen, where it was just moments before the commencement of the game.

Astel and Bonnefoy moved to the rink, where a referee was already standing. Matt stood slightly to the side, looked at the entire rink, and then turned to where Astel was standing. He positioned himself, took stance.

The puck was dropped. The Wolves won the playoff. Matt passed to Aryan, who sped forward, sensed Astel behind him and mohawked, shooting it to Kiku. Kiku was faster than ever. He moved forward, saw his path being blocked by Maere, who was moving, all hundred and sixty five pounds, towards Kiku. Kiku swerved, passed to Matt.

Teller intercepted, his move sending the crowd roaring, one half with delight, the other half with anger. Matt pursued him like a mad dog after a bone, and didn't see Astel move paralelly by him. He sensed his presence quickly, shot out in front and cut right before Teller, making a grab for the puck, sliding and falling in the process. He knocked the puck right of out Teller's hold. Matt slid back to his feet and made a run for the puck, but Honda got their first. Still, Matt moved around from behind Kiku, leaving himself open for a pass or assist.

Kiku passed to Matt, moved bang in front of the goalkeeper, received and shot it straight it.

_Pllllaaaar!_

The roar of the crowd couldn't quite drown out the blare of the horn, and Nat and Peter rejoiced, fist-pumping as they watched the replay. Nat hugged the sweatshirt tighter to her, and watched the team go bananas on the ice as they celebrated.

They moved back to the central playoff circle, and Nat saw the sly smile on Matt's face, something she'd never seen before. Astel and Matt got into position, and the teams aligned themselves behind and around their captains.

The puck was dropped, and it had landed for just a second before Astel's blade caught the puck and flung it to Maere. Maere flew, literally, across the ice, pursued by the Wolves. Nat realized exactly why they were called the Sharks—they were fast, smooth and deadly. But before Maere and anybody could react, another player drove right into him, knocking him into the bleachers.

Peter winced audibly and said, "The Beilschmidt crusher's done it again."

Nat frowned mid-wince and frowned further when the commentator said the same thing. "Wait, what?"

"Ludwig's earned the reputation of being the worst player to have running you over," Peter explained, and they watched as Ludwig circled the goal and passed to Honda.

Yarby intercepted, and without considering it, let the puck fly.

Diego stopped it, passed it to Matt, who let it fly across more than half the ice, the where Ludwig was. Peter oohed, grabbing Nat's attention. "What?"

"The Bonnefoy scoop. It's his trademark move. Assured to knock both pucks and hearts in…the…air," Peter trailed off, praying for his life as he realized what he'd said, and to whom he'd said it.

But Nat just laughed incredulously. "Matt has _groupies_?"

"He's a good looking laddie, Nat," Peter defended. Nat just shook her head slowly in amusement, and turned back to the screen.

Teller had the puck, and he moved fluidly. Both the Sharma brothers decided to intercept him, planning to squash him right between them. But before Aryan, moving in from the right, could grab the puck from Teller, Teller shot it towards Aryan. Confused at the unexpected pass, Aryan made a grab for it, but it had already slid from in between his feet. Teller slid past in between the Sharma brothers easily. He reached out with his stick, locked the puck into the curve, dragged it to him. He took a deep breath, and let it rip.

_Phhhhaaan!_

The crowd roared, the horn blared and the Sharks grinned and hooted, jumping atop each other. Matt heralded his team back, clanging his stick against the ice to show his appreciation towards Teller's play.

The next twenty four minutes were hectic, with frequent shifts and exchanges. The referees called seven fouls, another goal for the Sharks by Astel, and two goals from Acharya and Matt. Honda was quashed between two huge guys, Aryan was flung into the air, flipped over and crashed into the ice, and Matt got called on a foul, shocking Nat. When the bell at the end of the period rang, Nat suddenly remembered exactly what she was doing in the locker room, but suddenly she wanted to run away. She got up and turned, but someone flung themselves at Nat and locked her in a tight bear hug. It took Nat a moment to push down the panic she felt and realize she was holding Lili Zwingli in her arms. She patted the girl's back awkwardly, relieved when Lili let her go.

"Hello," Nat said, growing happy by just looking at Lili's beaming face.

"Natalia! I'm so glad to see you!" Lili exclaimed, nearly blowing holes into Nat's eardrums. But Nat didn't mind entirely—she was quite fond of Lili. But she remembered what she was about to do, and tried easing herself out of Lili's embrace, but Lili would not let go of her.

"Lili, I need to go"—

"No—you haven't even seen your brother! And it's been too long!" Lili argued fiercely in her quiet voice, and Nat blinked. What had happened to the shy, quiet Lili she'd last seen in W City?

"Besides, you came here to see them," Peter said, getting up. At once, Lili's attention flew to him, and Nat saw the exchange of looks that took place. Nat's intuition screamed facts that she chose to ignore, and when Peter interlaced his fingers with Lili's, Nat turned away from the sickeningly cute couple, and locked gazes with summer sea eyes.

The lighting that streaked through her was instantaneous, and her stomach dropped into an endless freefall. She was paralyzed, frozen as he walked to her, only her head raising, unable to break eye contact, unable to look away.

And then that brilliant, shy smile that she knew so well. "Hi, Nat."

That jolted her. "You sick _ublyudok_," she whispered, and reached out, grabbing the back of his neck, dragging his down to her.

Her fingers grew damp by his sweat, his bread bristled against her cheeks and his lips on hers felt like home. His arms wound around her, dragging her close, pressing her hard against the protective gear he wore. Her fingers rubbed against his nape, curled into his hair when he groaned. His hands moved all over her, his tongue probed and teased, making her feel like a buoyant mass of energy, infusing her with his head that melted all barriers, untethered all damns.

This was home—in his arms, his lips on hers, surrounded by all that was him.

Emotions inside her welled up with the rush of lava in a volcano, and before she could stop herself, the tears rolled down her cheeks. Disgusted, she pushed back, wiping her cheeks angrily.

Matt grabbed hold of her chin, and eased her face up, gently kissing her cheeks. And he gave her the gentlest of smiles that had her eyes burning furiously with unshed tears. "I missed you."

"Me too," she whispered softly. "You stink."

Matt laughed softly. "Yeah, I do." His eyes fell on the sweatshirt on the bench, and he reached out to pick it up. "I wear this every day. Your brother's quite tired of seeing it," he said.

His tough, warrior-like exterior belied his soft heart, and it just sent pleasure zinging to her heart to know that he was exactly the way he was.

"What are you saying about me, comrade?"

Nat spun around, and found herself looking at kind, violet eyes, and it took everything inside her to stop herself from hugging her brother. "_Privet, bol'shoy brat._"

"_Privet, sestrenka_," Ivan whispered, and hugged her. Nat hugged him hard, then realized he stank, as well. She wriggled out of his embrace. "You stink," she said. "You all stink."

Ivan just raised an eyebrow. "_He_ stinks," he said, pointing at Matt. "_He_ was the one playing." He sent Matt a cool gaze, and Matt responded with a sheepish grin. He turned to his sister. "But you didn't seemed to mind it when you were…what do you call it? You didn't seem to mind his stench when you were eating his face."

Nat's jaw dropped, and she turned to Matt, whose cheeks were a brilliant red. She felt heat rise up to her face as well, and she looked away from Matt to Ivan. "H-How come you didn't play?"

"Ask the Captain. He seems to have special plans for me," Ivan said, and began walking away. Matt followed him hurriedly, trying to placate him. "Ivan, you know you're my trump card! Just wait for"—

Ivan shrugged and held up a hand. "I'm telling you, Captain, I'll be a bag of bones by the time you call me out," he said, and threw Matt a bottle before going to where all the players were already assembled. Matt squirted water over his face and hair, gave Nat an apologetic smile, and hurried over to where Tino was discussing plays and tactics.

Nat turned to her side, and saw Lili sitting on the bench by herself. She ran her tongue absently over her throbbing lips, and sat down next to Lili, watching the players shift their weight from one leg to the other, listening to what Tino had to say with full concentration. She turned to Lili. "What's Peter doing there?"

Lili turned her large eyes at Nat. "He's very good at reading the opponent players—he can assess their strengths and weaknesses. Mr Tino takes his help while building strategies."

Nat nodded and turned back to looking at the players, wondering absently about Peter and Lili. Then a question suddenly struck her. "How did your brother take it?"

Hmm?"

"Your brother—does he know you and Peter are…?"

Lili blushed all the way to the tip of her ears and the tip of her nose, and wrung her hands which, funnily, reminded Nat of a bird in distress, even though birds didn't wring their wings. "He doesn't know."

"I'm sure the others do."

"They're not going tell big brother," Lili said. "He doesn't want me to go out with any boy."

"How come?"

"He still thinks I'm a baby, I think. He treats me like one. Besides, Peter…If brother got to know, he'd shoot Peter or, worse, not let him play periodically like he does."

Nat understood perfectly. "Does Peter want to tell him?"

"Yes!" Lili said. "I don't understand why he would want to do something like that."

_Someone's serious about this girl_, Nat thought. "If it does come down to it, I'm pretty sure you'll be able to cross that bridge when it comes," she said after a while.

"Do you think so?"

"Hmm."

The players disbanded, and began walking out of the locker room. When Matt and Ivan approached, Nat held out her hand, and they high-fived as they passed. "All the best," she whispered as they reached her, and they nodded.

Peter settled down next to Lili. "Aren't you going back?" he asked Lili, who shook her head.

Nat rolled her eyes, and looked at the screen, awaiting the beginning of the second period.

* * *

It had just been a quiet pop, drowned in the roar and noise of the crowd, and nobody realized what was going on. Everyone had been riveted towards the match, which was growing fast paced and exciting. Ivan was on the ice, to the delight of all Wolves' supporters. Nat truly realized how much the game had helped her brother grow, become his own man, independent and true to himself. With him on the ice, the Wolves seemed unbeatable. Ivan assisted Demhall's goal, and got a goal himself, and the defence they put up against the Sharks was brilliant. But the Sharks were just as good, and managed to sneak in two goals, one by Teller, the second by Redfern. The crowd had roared, louder than ever, drowning the inconspicuous pop within its noise.

Nobody knew what was going on for long moments, but when the bullet shot right through Ivan kneepad and buried itself into his knee, Ivan let out a noiseless scream and fell to the ice. The game stopped abruptly a few moments after, and the audience and players watched, shocked and stunned, as Ivan lay in the growing pool of blood.

Nat, Peter and Lili watched, uncomprehending, unable to tell what was going on. Nat's mind was buzzing incoherently, not know what—

"_Ivan_!"

Katyusha's scream jolted her out of it, dissolved the lead lodged in her legs, and she ran. She ran out of the locker room, just registering the reaction of the shocked crowd. She ran up the stairs, through the corridor, skidded to a stop, reaching to the passageway outside the bleachers. She began running towards the entrance, her mind working at alarming speeds, when she saw the man who'd shot her brother. With a soft growl, she slipped out her knife from beneath her sleeve, and stole up behind him.

A look over his shoulder, and he sighted her just as she was on him. Without considering it, he ran, and Nat gave chase.

Nat's lungs were burning, and her shoulders were aching, but she was going to skewer the guy before she so much as let go of him. The bastard always seemed to be two steps ahead of her, his boots thundering over the tiled floor as they ran out of the stadium, her sneakers making no noise as she pursued.

As soon as they were out of the stadium, Nat flung a knife at him, slipping out another one from her left hand at the same time. It sliced neatly at his neck, cutting through a chain and into his neck, and Nat took little pleasure in the roar of pain that he let out. Her lungs felt like they were going to pop right out, but she wasn't giving up.

She slipped out another knife, and threw it at his legs, growling when she missed. She upped her speed, but they were outdoors, and the cement beneath her feet wasn't helping her go any faster. And even though he was bleeding and wearing the wrong boots for running, he was quite fast.

So focussed she was on him that she heard the motorbike coming up from behind her in the last second. She jumped away, throwing a knife at the motorist in a sideways arc, cutting right through the motorist's jacket. Her legs, finding themselves not in motion, refused to go on further, and Nat just watched, helpless, as the motorist drove up to the assailant, waited for him to hop on, and then rode off.

"Natalia!"

Nat turned, panting. Her stomach felt like as if it was going to heave right out of her mouth, and her windpipe was burning intensely. Through the tears formed in her eyes, she saw Yuri running over to her. Her knees gave way, and she fell onto the cement, unable to do nothing but wince when pain jarred through her legs.

"That was foolish," he said, settling down next to her. "Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, and raised her head when Yuri got up. He pulled out his gun, took aim for long, long moments, and then shot.

Nat heard as the bullet cut through metal, and although she couldn't see too far off, she had a fair idea that Yuri had marked the back nameplate with a bullet hole. She dropped her head, trying to catch her breath, and she heard Yuri call somebody on his phone and speak in rapid Russian. She got up, dusting her knees off, and looked at Yuri. "That man…"

"He shot your brother in the knee. I called up my men, sent them to the nearest mechanic station. When they try and change the nameplate, we will know. I was trying for the tyre, but…they will have to change this, too."

"How's…brother…?"

"They are working on him. The Wolves have a very good doctor."

"D-Do you…know why?"

Yuri shook his head, and looked at Nat, his grey eyes serious. He fished something out of his pocket. "_Net_. But I have a fair idea who."

Nat looked at what he'd retrieved from his pocket. "Dog tags?" She looked at Yuri. Yuri was her brother's closest friend, and practically their guardian angel. His mother had taken Ivan and all of them in when they first came to W City, and Yuri's father gave Ivan a job, and introduced the children to other possible part time jobs they could've taken up. Yuri was the first boy Ivan had met who was of his age, and the first person he completely and utterly trusted. Yuri's father, who owned three shops in W City then, had handed it over to Yuri, who'd given it to Ivan, knowing that Ivan was the more capable of the two. And when Ivan had expanded both the number shops and the power he welded, Yuri had stayed as his right hand man.

"I cut…his neck," Nat said. "Must've…fallen off…then. Yuri, what is it?" When Yuri shook his head and tried to slip the dog tags back into his pocket, Nat grabbed his hand. "Yuri, you _will_ tell me."

Yuri considered it, knowing what it was costing him to keep it all inside. Even though she wouldn't understand…"You will not tell your brother."

He wasn't asking her, he was telling her. She nodded. "_Da._ I shall not."

Yuri brought out the dog tags, and studied them. "I don't know why they chose now to do it, or why they did it, but if these dog tags are anything to go by, then the person who shot your brother was someone under Cross."

Nat's blood froze. "Cross? But…"

Yuri looked at Nat. "Cross has had his eyes on Ivan for a long time now, ever since all of you came here. But just as of recently…he's never been this much of a problem. It used to be just sabotaging a truck, or picking a fight with one of us. These petty things didn't bother us. But as of recently…" Again, he considered whether to tell her about the confrontation Katyusha had had months ago, and chose against it. Ivan had clearly told Yuri that the other members of his family weren't to be involved in his affairs, and Yuri respected his wishes. "It's gotten worse. It's not petty anymore. And this is the worst." He turned to Nat. "Go back to your brother, Natalia. He needs you now. You're lucky you didn't get shot. Go." At Nat's confused expression, he repeated it more sternly. "Go!"

The confusion died from Nat's eyes, and she ran back towards the stadium. As soon she was out of sight, Yuri took out the dog tags. There was a deeper history between Ivan and Cross than Yuri was allowed to know. As far he knew, both Ivan and Cross had been approached by the same person who had offered them money in exchange for a favour. Where Ivan had rejected the offer, Cross had picked it up. And when Ivan had come to know that Cross had taken the offer, he'd asked Yuri to introduce him to the underworld. Yuri didn't know what was going on, but soon realized that Ivan's affairs with the underworld was to keep the business safe from Cross's sticky fingers, and later, his own self.

This time, Cross had gone too far.

But why?

* * *

Tash staggered in, pale and scared, holding the bandage at his neck in place. That bitch had knives hidden in her person…he hadn't expected that. And that Yuri—_the_ Yuri—would've been there was something none of them had counted.

They'd gotten Roxy, and Tash had escaped by the edge of his teeth, but it didn't matter. Once Cross got to know that they'd gotten some more of his men, he'd be livid. And Tash would get the backlash of it first.

Tash missed those days when they were just boys fooling around. Until Koroleva had come around, they'd just been boys who'd drabbled a bit into bad habits. They'd tried drugs, they'd tried smoking, they'd tried drinking, but Cross had always made it clear that they weren't going to get addicted to any of it—they were just doing it for the experience, not for the rush or pleasure. They'd also hated how Ivan Braginsky was suddenly so powerful and lined with cash, and when Koroleva had come knocking on their door, they hadn't thought twice before accepted.

With his life in danger now, Tash wished they had.

He didn't know what exactly the deal was—Klaus had turned up on their door one day, telling them the first part of the deal. His employee was some dame rolling in money, and she had a favour to ask of them. In exchange, they would get cash and power. At that time, all that they'd been doing was experiencing new things and finding new ways to screw Braginsky over. And when Klaus had added that, too, Cross had been up for it—hell, they'd all been up for it.

And Tash had wished they hadn't been.

He didn't think it would've gotten so serious. Although he hated Braginsky, a small part of him admired what he was doing, how he'd come up in life. And when the order to shoot Ivan in the leg had come, he felt a little twinge in his conscience, 'cause anyone who saw the matches could tell that Braginsky was truly enjoying the game. But he'd gone and done it.

Yuri knew who had shot Braginsky—Tash was sure of that. And he would declare war, too, whether or not Braginsky allowed it. And with Cross not in Scottsdale, it was going to be hard for them to know whether to retaliate or not.

But what Tash didn't know was that Koroleva had already thought about that.

*x*

"Ivan Braginsky has been shot."

She laughed, her dazzling, lilting laugh that had caught the attention of her late husband. "Is that so? How delightful."

"But the boy said that Braginsky's right hand man was there, and he saw him. Also, Braginsky's younger sister gave chase, and she managed to get hold of his tags."

She frowned. She didn't like to frown, but sometimes, things just didn't go her way. She hadn't planned for _Yuri_, of all people to be there, and for Alia to give chase. Even if Alia didn't know what Tash's dog tag stood for, Yuri surely would know.

She hadn't wanted to move ahead so fast, but…things like this happened from time to time, too. When she'd gone and set the plan into motion, she knew that sometimes certain gears would change, and certain kinks would appear. Still…she called herself Koroleva for a reason.

"That's alright, Klaus," she said. "They must be worried about how Cross isn't there with them."

Her butler rarely showed surprise, but she accurately guessed the pause on the other line as his surprise. "_Da_, Koroleva."

"Tell them, Klaus, that any order I give is to be carried out. And even if it doesn't come down from Cross himself, it must be carried out."

"_Da_, Koroleva."

"That is all."

She ended the call, tapped one end of the phone against her mouth thoughtfully. Ivan was going to be devastated, unable to play, unable to escape from the politics that used to surround him before he'd found ice-hockey. And Yuri was going to put pressure over Ivan to officially declare war, and even if Ivan didn't officialise it, he would go do it himself. The position Ivan was in right now wasn't good—stressed from all sides, unable to reach out and ask for help.

Which, she thought as a smile played on her lips, made it the perfect time to put forth her offer again.

* * *

**A/N: It's getting all mysterious again, I know.**

**Sorry for all the scientific terms...if you look closely, you'll find all sorts of terms like 'freefall', 'instantaneous'—I was busy writing this during my physics lectures. If you want, go and take another look, and find all the science-y terms you can see. **

**I have my Bio test tomorrow, and my Math lecturer's demanded that we finish three lectures' worth problems and do it on the board tomorrow, and I already spent half the day on this…don't regret it, but I'm seriously screwed tomorrow. I better get started.**

**I'm going to stick with this story, and I'm going to finish it, whether people read or not. So for whoever's stuck with me for so long, thank you all so much. **

**You're going to see a lot of OOC, since I'm going to start asserting the storyline now. So if you guys want something run-of-the-mill, well…this is going to be different in quite a number of ways. That's what I meant by 'sticking with the story'. And if it's been going OOC for a while now, idk…just giving a fair warning.**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	34. Chapter 24: The sharp bend in the river

**A/T:**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

**Note: Read every word quite carefully. Why? Read on, and you'll realize.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 24

Ivan turned his head, looked out of the window. He didn't want to go out, but, unfortunately, it was in his hands. His body wanted to get out of the bed. He looked at the pair of crutches by the bed, and felt like laughing at what fate was doling out. But he just wanted to run away from all of them. It had taken him a while, but as soon as he'd left, he'd realized what exactly he'd left behind. To his surprise and his incredulity, he'd loved those days—they were exhausting to the point of unconsciousness, and they were extremely maddening, but life was simple. Win, and if you lose, work harder. A future, a life, everything he had always wished for was handed to him on a silver platter.

Maybe that was the problem, Ivan thought. Maybe it was because that sick Almighty above was playing a grand joke on him—He was giving him a taste of the good life, and then snatching it away from him. He didn't want to know who, he didn't want to know why. Right then, he just wanted to blank out his mind against the insane pain that seemed to grip his heart and choke him.

There was a knock at the door. Ivan flung the sheets off him, and got up using the crutches as the door swung open. Ivan looked up as he balanced himself. "_Sestra._"

Katyusha blinked. "What are you doing up?" she asked him in her native tongue.

"Stretching a bit," he replied, watching as Katyusha moved into the room, picking up his laundry and removing his sheets. "Miss Wang is here," Kat informed, trying to give him as casual a glance as possible, but the way his eyes lit up was so endearing she couldn't help but smile. "At least change your clothes," she chided. "You don't want to look like a surly bear."

Ivan smiled at his sister, and moved slowly to the cupboard. He took his clothes out, and sat down. Kat watched him dress himself, and it pained her deeply as she watched him, so strong, so stoic, even in the face of such pain. He was even more fiercely independent, and he was even more withdrawn from them. Chun-Yan, probably, could help them.

Katyusha sorely wished she could.

* * *

"You finally came to take me away."

Chun-Yan grinned. "No. I'm just waiting for a handsome man to take me away, aru." Ivan put on a mock face of depression, and Chun-Yan narrowed her eyes, assessing, and said, "But I think you can do well enough, aru."

He smiled at her. "Hello."

She smiled back. "_Nihao_."

He walked up to her. "Let's go to the park."

She looked at her watch. It was 11:16 in the morning; nobody except the kids playing hooky would be there. She had to go to work herself…"Let's go, aru," she said.

They walked slowly. It was a bright day, and was slowly getting hotter. But it was pleasant enough, and they walked slowly. Most of those still at home were inside, and as Chun-Yan knew from her experience of being around him, he hated having people gossip about him. But now, it was pity as well, and she could understand exactly how it ignited something very basic in him—she had it too, and in equal measure. It was pride that made him walk slowly, without a limp, which made her walk slowly by him, as if everything was alright with the world. But she knew exactly how much he hated to be here, even though he was surrounded by people who loved him. And she knew why, too.

But, right then, she just wanted to be there with him, and help him escape for as long as was necessary.

She started talking about her day, her week, and started telling him anecdotes and stories that revolved around her restaurant and the people who came, who stayed. She had a lot of stories to tell, and he listened to her with half an ear. Both of them had time to spend, and by the time she was done, they were at the park, walking towards a bench in a shady area of the park.

They sat in silence, looking at the near deserted park, lost in their own thoughts. Slowly, softly, Chun-Yan asked, "How do you feel, aru?"

He laughed softly. "Lost."

Chun-Yan had nothing to say to that. She was busy hunting around, figuring out whether Ivan's knee could be cured. The answers she'd gotten till now weren't promising, but she still had some more avenues to hunt, some more doors to knock. There was always a way to do it, and she was going to find out how. Her rudimentary knowledge of medicine and acupuncture, along with what Emil Steilsson had told her, told her that it could be done. He could be healed. Now, if she just got some answers…

She didn't mind never seeing him again than seeing him this…unhappy was the only word that came to mind, but unhappy could never even cover an iota of Ivan's grief. Yes, he grieved, and Chun-Yan couldn't bear to see him grieve.

"Yuri told me one of Cross's men did it."

Chun-Yan looked up. "What?"

"One of Cross's men shot me. And Yuri says I should declare war."

_She_ wanted to declare war—in fact, she wanted to kill all of them. But Ivan was depending on her, and so she listened. "What do you think?"

"I'm tired of all this. It's just…it's pointless, Chun-Yan. What do we fight for every day? Money? Coins? We don't fight for anything worthwhile, Chun-Yan. We don't get any happiness out of it. I don't get a better life in trying to figure out which way Cross has screwed his head. I don't even want to know why."

_I just want to get out of here._

Chun-Yan heard the message loud and clear. She wanted to give him answers, assurances, anything, but all she could do was sit and think whether it was possible. But she knew he wouldn't leave in shame or disgrace. He had too much pride for that, she knew.

"Yuri's going to do it anyways, though."

That snapped her out of her thoughts. He continued, "He knows I do not wish to pursue it. But he's going to wage war. He's going to kill each and every one of those _mudak_ with his bare hands. And he'll do it happily. It's a matter of integrity and pride. I understand."

"But you don't have to like it, aru."

He nodded, and stared off again.

The song of Chinese New Year's ritual dance broke the silence, and Chun-Yan slipped her phone out, frowning at the caller-id. She'd specifically told Kiku _not_ to call her when she was with Ivan. The fact that he was calling her—

"Take it."

She looked up at Ivan, realizing that her feelings had been clear on her face. Embarrassed, she said, "I'll take a minute, aru." She connected to call. "Kiku"—

"It's urgent, _neesan_."

Chun-Yan looked at Ivan, mouthed her apologies, and got up. "What is it, aru?"

"There's a customer who refuses to leave unless he sees you."

"Tell him to go"—

"He says his name is Klaus…and _neesan_, he's with men wearing dog tags."

Chun-Yan's eyes hardened, becoming the eyes of the Miss Wang that all gangs stayed very, very far away from. "Give him the phone, aru."

-u-

Ivan's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he took it out, connected it. "Hello."

"_Privet_, Ivan—and before you cut the call, I can help you."

"I have no wish to speak to you—

"Just as you have no wish to fight Cross. And I can help you."

"That isn't a good idea, Koroleva, simple because I do not"—

"Yuri is going to demand blood. Without you, he's powerless, but can still do a lot of damage on his own." Ivan realized he could make it shorter by just listening to her, and decided to listen.

But he'd forgotten just how manipulative she could be.

"Because of that, Yuri will still try. Cross is powerful, and still growing powerful, and Yuri's idea of diving into all of this would be foolhardy. But we're not little children, are we? It would really hurt"—

"What do you want?"

"An eye for an eye. I want your help to destroy a certain somebody. In return, I'll make Cross as powerless as possible."

"Why?"

"He's growing to be a distasteful investment. Diverting a bit now, you and I have always had our suspicions of who Cross could be."

The first rule of dealing with this woman was expressionlessness. But what she told him next surprised him. "I know you've always suspected a certain someone because he was always trying to ruin your business by doing petty little things. And I wouldn't be wrong in saying that he and his friends were the ones who tore your sister's self-confidence into dust and pushed her into seclusion. And you've never been able to make that connection. I've gone a bit further in that aspect, but it would be foolish to say more unless I'm absolutely correct. I usually am."

"Getting a little curious, Koroleva—how is it that _you_ have never seen Cross?"

"I'm in a faraway land, _moy mal'chik_. I wouldn't know him if I passed by him. But I know his voice. I know that voice very well. And I know another's voice who sounds just like him. Which brings me to the people I wanted destroyed."

"I thought it was one."

She laughed, a truly rich, sensual, eerie laugh. "Oh, there will always be that one _pouffiasse_ I'll always want to kill, even if she's dead. Two people, _moy mal'chik_, where one is the light of the other's life. Also, you'll probably be interested, too."

"Who are these people?"

"Alice Bonnefoy and Alfred Jones Bonnefoy."

* * *

The drapery was different. It was a canopy bed this time, with crimson drapes and silken sheets. But that was the only thing different about this dream.

Oh, and that Matt actually owned the buff her mind had pasted on last time.

Nat emerged from the dream, exhausted than invigorated. It was mentally hard, trying to balance who she liked and who she liked looking at. Actually, both of them were good lookers, but…dreams like this just managed to throw her completely off track, which was a bad thing since it took her forever to come right back on track.

Images began flashing, suddenly and vividly, and Nat closed her eyes against them. But it was pretty much useless, and she ended up reliving the whole dream.

Both of them towered over her, two deliciously carved out hunks of prime male meat, and stared down at her, Matt's eyes smouldering, Al's eyes electrifying. And suddenly, she was between them, being worked on by both of them—Matt kissed her, filling her mouth and senses with himself, crushing her lips and nipping at her tongue, while Al ran his mouth from her nape down to her back, moving dangerously slow, taking the time to ravish every inch of her naked flesh before moving downwards.

Nat was pulled away from the kiss, her head tilting back to accept Al's mouth this time, and his kiss was slow, a sensuous dance that took as long as you liked. Somewhere at the back of her mind, she felt Matt's teeth sink into her shoulders, then drag down and capture her—

Okay, she wasn't going to think about it anymore.

She went to her bathroom, washed her face. She wasn't going to take these evening naps any more—dangerous things they were. And it was during this state of disarray that the phone began ringing.

She cut the call, and stretched. Francis was going to kill her for dozing off. She walked out of the bathroom and in front of the kitchen to take the next order, and the phone began to ring again.

A little irritated, she put the phone on silent, and cut the call, a move not missed by Francis's sharp eyes. As she took the plates, the phone rang again.

"_Mon ami_," Francis called out after she'd served the customers, just as she was about to cut the call again. "Take the call."

She nodded, and moved towards the staffroom as she connected the call. "Hello."

"How are you?"

Her blood chilled, but before Nat could cut the call, she'd already begun speaking. "What if I told you I know who shot your brother?"

She called out all the power of self-control she'd mastered as a child. "Why would you tell me?"

"Because, Alia, I don't like bad things happening to good people. And I know you're a good person."

"How do you know?"

"You _are_ a good girl, A"—

"How do you know the person who shot my brother?"

"I might be in a cold, faraway place, Alia, but my influence is far reaching. Would you like to know?"

Nat took her own counsel for a while. "Yes."

"His name is Arnold Brewster, but he's called 'Tash' by everybody who knows him. He's around your age, he's five feet ten inches, and he used to be a cross-country runner when he was a teenager. He also represented your neighbouring city, Scottsdale, in quite a number of sports. His favourite, as I recall, is basketb"—

"How does this"—

"It was through basketball that he met Cross. Patience, my dear, patience," she said soothingly, knowing that the bomb she had dropped on Nat would leave her speechless for quite some time now. "He started working under Cross ever since then. Now, you know him, and before you ask, I'll tell you how to find him."

"How?"

"Tash—that's a very distasteful name, is it not? Anyways, Tash met a lot of his good friends through basketball, and one of them seems to be someone you know very well."

"Who?"

"Alfred Jones Bonnefoy."

* * *

"I know who shot you."

Nat and Ivan were sitting in the park, watching the stars. Katyusha was still making dinner, and it looked like it would take a while, so Nat and Ivan decided to go walking—Ivan was particular of having his exercise as he healed. And there they were, watching the stars, trying to gather what the day had given them.

Ivan sighed. "I know who shot me, too."

"Y-You do?"

"_Da_."

Nat clearly didn't know what to say, so she kept quiet, completely unnerved. She wanted to ask him what he knew about it, or how he…she pulled her taut nerves together, calmed herself down. This was no time to be going psychoanalytic on her brother. She eliminated the confusion, and felt quiet rage roll into that empty space. "Do you need my help?" she asked quietly.

Surprise flashed in those violet blue eyes. "_Da_?"

"I'll help you. _YA khochu ubit' ikh vsekh._"

Ivan felt the darkness bubbling out from her to him, engulfing them both, leaving his consciousness for the very end. As he felt the miasma eat up all rational thought, it occurred to him that he was turning back to the monster he had once been, long ago—before he'd met Chun-Yan, before ice-hockey, before being shot. He briefly thought about all that even as the heavy hand of miasma covered him up, and about how Chun-Yan would feel.

But before he could think about reconsidering, it was too late.

Ivan Braginsky, hell-child, was back.

"Natalia."

Her back snapped ramrod straight out of mere reflex, but as she gave herself time to think, she realized exactly what that tone was—and what it meant. She schooled her features, turned to Ivan, and saw the dead dangerousness that iced her blood over, the same way it did when she spoke to Ella, the mysterious woman.

Big Brother Ivan was back.

"Yes, Big Brother."

"I need your help, Natalia."

It was obvious to her that he wasn't asking. The very tone of his voice took her back to those times when they'd first come to W-City, when she'd been more terrified of him than she had of physical harm. She wasn't scared of the physical harm anymore. She was scared, just plain scared, and her fear couldn't be explained.

And he knew that. And he was going to use it, too.

"What do you want me to do?"

"You said you know who shot me."

She nodded curtly. "His name is Tash. Arnold Brewster. He's supposedly good friends with Alfred Bonnefoy."

"Now, here's my first mission for you, Natalia. I want you to find Arnold Brewster, and I want you to destroy him. You've done that before."

Nat had, on Ivan's orders again. But he'd promised to never involve any of them after the nightmares she and Toris had got by doing what they'd done. Maybe he thought of her to be stronger, maybe…

"Yes, Big Brother." There was no way she could go around it. The very thought of declining that brought bile to her mouth. That was the power of the fear she had for her own brother, the man who'd saved her life when she didn't even know she had one. She couldn't deny him anything now.

"Certain sources tell me that the elder Bonnefoy also has his fingers in"—

"He couldn't have!"

Ivan looked at her with an amused blankness even as she bit her own tongue hard. She didn't regret defending him. She just regretted what he would do to her next.

And, unbeknownst to her, she would regret it for a very long time.

"You sound quite sure about that. But I need to tell my source that I've confirmed his non-relation to all of this. You know Yuri's out of blood. If this source were to somehow reach Yuri's ears, it would turn out quite badly for everyone."

She hid one hand out of his sight and gripped the edge of the bench hard, harder still as the wood dug into her skin. It was like something out of a horror movie—but Big Brother was right. If Yuri so much as got wind of this 'source'—

"I'll confirm he hasn't done anything."

"Don't imagine Alfred Jones to be an easy man, Natalia," Ivan said smoothly, as if talking about the twinkling stars in the clear night sky. "He might be easy going and friendly to all, but his type only open up when you can reach close enough to breach that barrier around their emotions."

_And that can only happen if he falls in love with you._

They both heard those unsaid words, and it hung like a glinting sword above her neck, ready to fall down gleefully without a moment's notice. She was glad to have left her hair open—it was falling all over her face, covering the horrified expression on her face. What was he _saying_? What the fuck was he _thinking_? How could he even _imagine_ such a thing? How could she do—what about—it wasn't—

It was insane. She couldn't do this. She had to get out of the entire mess, go back home as if nothing ever happened. She couldn't—

"What is it, Natalia? Doubting the elder Bonnefoy's involvement in all this?"

"Not for a moment, Big Brother."

"Then why the hesitation?"

She was doing this to save him. She was doing this to keep Yuri from emptying an entire magazine into Alfred Jones's body.

"I'll do it."

Ivan acknowledged her answer with a moment's silence, then looked at his watch. "_Sestra_ must've finished making dinner. Let us go back."

"Yes, Big Brother."

He rose, and she rose after him, as had been the norm a long time ago, and as had become the unsaid rule now. And as she walked behind him, she couldn't believe how things had escalated, how they had come to _this_.

She walked home in a daze, not even realizing when they'd reached. She quickly had food, unable to look at anyone, unable to answer anything anyone asked, and fled to her room as quickly and as quietly as she could. She flung herself onto the bed, pulled out her phone, and speed-dialled the first person she could think of.

"_This number is not reachable._"

Nat frowned, and suddenly remembered why.

_We were all boating when we were in Skattsy when that durak got up and fell in. He lost his wallet and his phone in the lake, and he stank like a fish._

She gritted her teeth and flung the phone into the pillow next to her. The one person to whom she could tell the whole thing…Bbt how could she tell Matt any of this? Matt was a lot of things, but when it came to his brother, he positively worshipped Alfred. To know that Alfred's life was in danger…he'd come rushing back, and put himself bang in the way, right in between Alfred and whoever wanted to hurt him. And if Big Brother was right…

He was always right about these things. He wouldn't have drawn into a stupid conclusion on his own. Obviously the force at work had some influence over him—he didn't believe everybody and anybody. And if _he_ could believe said source, then it was a given that Yuri would believe it, too. And just the mention of avenging the man who was a brother to him…

She couldn't tell Katyusha or her brothers—it would bring back that dreaded atmosphere to the house. And it would be even worse than it had been before, because now, they were all actually happy. And to ruin that was the last thing on Natalia's mind.

Even as she thought about it and ruled people out, she realized she couldn't tell anybody—they were either involved in some way, and telling them would involve them if they already weren't. She couldn't tell the Bonnefoys, or her friends Tanusha or Mei.

The further she thought about it, the more hopeless it felt. She thought of telling Yuri that no matter what anyone said, there was no way Alfred wasn't involved in any of this. But she knew Yuri—he would ask her a million questions, and when he'd realize that Ivan himself believed it, he wouldn't think twice before believing it.

She growled into her pillow, clutching at her hair. Frustration began eating her insides ferociously, and then blanked out, making her realize one thing.

She was a loner, and she would always be a loner, no matter how many friends she made.

And with this troubled thought, she fell asleep, bearing the cross whose burden she could not share.

* * *

"Oi, Nat."

She froze, like she always did, at the mention of his name, and her brain froze, like it always did, at the sound of his voice. With supreme willpower she turned around, and her system jolted as she looked into twin pools of electric-blue.

She frowned at him. "Why are you hiding there?"

"Come here."

She frowned even further. "Excuse"—

He flapped his hand urgently. "Come 'ere!"

She raised an eyebrow and walked towards the bush, removing her helmet and setting it down on the Harley as she walked past it. "Wha"—she yelped as he pulled her into the bush, stumbling and falling over him. She bit back her blush and panic, growing super-aware of Al's body hard beneath hers. But the easy, relaxed grin he gave her made her think he was totally used to having girls lie in rather compromising positions on him in random bushes.

Womanizing bastard.

"Okay, listen. I need your help."

She frowned. "What do I get?"

"I'll take you for the next four boxing matches, _and_ pay for dinner. Promise."

She raised an eyebrow. "Expensive. I'm listening."

"Okay. My dad wants to take my mom on a date-sort-of-thing—don't even ask me what—but my mom refuses to leave me behind. Something to do with them running off being the cause of me never being around the house and holing up in my apartment in Scottsdale. Whatever. Long story short, we're going out somewhere, and to save myself from being utterly bored to death. I got a ticket, and if you come, I'll take you with me for the next four matches. Plus, pre-match dinner comes with the package. And I won't ditch you like I did the last time."

Nat narrowed her eyes. "What are we"—

"Deal or no deal?"

"Why"—

"Nat, just be a darling and answer the question."

She looked at him dubiously. "Fine. Deal. But what are we going for?" she asked, getting off him. He got up, fished his pockets and handed her the ticket.

She slowly read the venue and event details on the ticket, and slowly raised her eyes to Alfred, glowering. "Alfred, _ublyudok_."

Al caught both her fists, and drew her close, closer than comfort, to him. "I hope you have something nice to wear, Arlovksaya," he drawled. "'Cause we're going to the opera."

* * *

**A/T: Twilightsux! You found me! Darling, please make an account asap—how could I forget you?! You reviewed Silver Bullet—I swear, that was one of the best days I've ever had! And your review here—thank you sooooo much for reading MFN.**

**And Adei, I hope you're more muddled up than before. Me evil. *grin***

**If you guys are seeing the connect with this and the first scene of the first chapter, then congrats, you're getting what I'm trying to do here. If you haven't put it back, you don't have to—just enjoy the ride and watch as the pieces fall together. And it'll probably come together sooner than you think.**

**I have my math Competitive test tomorrow, and I'm so totally screwed in trig.**

**And for this chapter, I'd love to know your response through PM or reviews—I want to know what's going on in your heads, and where you think MFN's going to go. So PM and review, people who're reading this chapter.**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	35. Chapter 25: It's fun being with you

**A/T: Scarlett's back! Me totally happy!**

**Sorry, Adei :P ^^'…it's gonna get a little better, I promise. I hope.**

**I got my own room yesterday—my bro FINALLY shifted out—and I spent half the day dusting all my books…I swear, the books are loaded with at least twenty years' worth of dust, and I haven't even been alive that long…and I have a super-super-super-bad cold right now and I can't breathe and it sucks…I'm dust allergic.**

**And I woke up at 4 to study Math…printing those question banks in the dead of the night and studying them today morning was totally worth it…By intense calculation, I'll probably get somewhere between 79 to 83 out of 90 in my Math test. Nerd, and proud of it. ;D**

**I missed writing these A/Ts…and now I need to sleep. I got some headway during math and physics lectures, and I like where it's going.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 25

"Oi, what's your mobile number?"

Nat looked up from the writing pad. "I'll have your _mudak_ for hitting on me."

Al winced. "Ouch. But I do need your number. That is, _if_ you want to go for those matches."

Nat slid the plates before him, and pulled out her new phone. "Give me your phone." Nat exchanged numbers, and talked to him. "It must be quite distasteful to eat in your father's restaurant instead of having breakfast at home."

"You employees have it better off, having food every day here."

"Oh, shut up. Or you could join us."

"Love to, darling, but I'm getting restaurant-rate food at home. Even otherwise, tough," he said, "I'm quite busy."

"Sleeping and lazing around? You must be," she deadpanned.

He took his phone from her hand, and Nat's eye twitched at the heat that zoomed through her. Still, she managed to keep her expressions to herself, and listened to him. "There's a new project, and it's a pretty big one, too. And they're using our hangars for their storage purpose, so we just have all our work doubled. But it's really cool—we get to see their equipment first hand, and there's some really good equipment there. I'm really excited. Say…do you even know what a hangar looks like?"

"And I need to go," she said curtly, and turned around.

"Coward," he called out after her. She batted the insult away with a wave of her hand, and skated over to the counter.

"Flirting with the customer, Nat?" Sophia Santos, the Brazilian employee, asked.

Nat just raised an eyebrow, but decided to give Sophia a moment of her time. She spun around, leaned on the space of counter next to her. "Which part of that…that _durak_ makes you want to flirt with him?"

"Are you blind, _menina_?" Sophia asked. "That has to be one of the grandest pieces of male flesh I've ever seen. I'd go to take his order, but I'd probably start melting all over him." Sophia countered Nat's dubious expression with her own. "Are you kidding, Nat? He isn't _hot_. I don't think any language has the words to describe exactly how positively droolsome he is."

Nat rolled her eyes, slid out a plate loaded with a slice of strawberry cheesecake. "Now go drool over him." Before Sophia could say anything, Nat rolled away with another table's order, thinking that if Sophia had mentioned Al's ass…

Now _that_ she would totally agree with.

* * *

"What do you want to order?"

Nat frowned. "Does this mean we _aren't_ going to the opera?"

"Aah, no. We're still going. Aw, come on, Nat, cheer up. It's not _that_ bad"—

"People wearing costumes and warbling. Honestly, everyone just dies in the end"—

"That's not true"—

"I'm hungry. Order."

"Yes, princess. What do you want?"

"Healthy and filling. Whatever _you're_ not having."

"Hey! I can eat healthy," he protested, in reply to which Nat rolled her eyes to show her agreement. He huffed, and scanned the menu. He called the waitress, ordered while Nat looked around.

They'd always used the shortest road in their motor races or in reaching the godown for the matches, which happened to be one of the back roads, while the diner came on the main road. Nat had never used the main road—had never needed to—while Al used it frequently, on his trips to and from Scottsdale, and had become a regular of the diner. Either that, or waitresses all over liked checking him out, and he was ordering like he knew the place—or the menu—quite well.

It was painted a sunny blew, peeling at the edges, with faded black tiles and a polished dark brown counter that was currently occupied sparsely. She moved her gaze everywhere, only to return and find Al looking at her. Disconcerted, she asked, "What?"

"Nothing. I like watching you when you don't talk."

Nat's cheeks turned a pale pink. "Is that an incentive for me to start blabbering?"

"I said I liked you _quiet_. So shush."

"I hate anything you happen to like."

"You love silence, you love air, you love food—don't make such strong statements, Nat. Oh, here it is."

Nat thanked the waitress, who looked slightly surprised, since she'd spent a great deal of the past five minutes biting Al's head off. Al himself was a bit surprised, and when he asked her later, it was because it made her a bit happy when customers thanked her. Of course, Bonnefoy's always had a very good clientele, but Nat didn't think the diner had the same good fortune. They sat, eating their food in silence, when Al suddenly started, "What's your dream?"

Nat looked up from her spaghetti. "What?"

"You know. What's your dream?"

She blinked. "I…I've never thought about it."

"Come on, Nat. If we were kids, what would you say you'd want to become once we grew up?"

She had to think really hard for that one. She'd never actually had to answer that one, 'cause there weren't many people who would've asked that to her. And those who'd have probably asked were the ones she'd become friends with recently, and they wouldn't ask her something like that.

Alfred, it seemed, had to be a contradiction even to that.

"I've always wanted to open my own business, I guess," Nat answered thoughtfully. "I'd wanted to be a vet, once, too"—

"Uncle Williams is a vet, you know."

Nat blinked. "He is?"

"Yeah, he keeps going from his clinics in Australia to mom's family farms in the UK. He's probably one of the only brothers mom's in touch with. She hates the rest of them." At Nat's confused look, Alfred said, "They're actually her cousins, except Uncle Ian, Uncle John, Uncle Collin and Peter."

Nat nodded, having momentarily forgotten that Peter was actually his uncle and a few years elder to him.

"Mom has a whole bunch of cousins, and—I should just shut up now. What kind of a business did you want to start?"

She shrugged. "Anything, actually. A gallery. Or maybe a publishing house. I wanted to help your mom with her business for a while. After your dad gave us jobs, I'm alright where I am. What about you?"

"I wanted to be an astronaut for a while," he said. "Then I decided to be a superhero." She choked on her spaghetti, but he ignored her. "I wanted to become a professional sportsperson, but I.."

"You what?"

"I—Look at the time. You better eat fast, Nat, or we'll be late for my own match." He began shovelling spaghetti into his mouth, and that was the end of that.

Muttering about time and timing, Nat began eating her dinner as well.

No point in watching a match on an empty stomach, after all.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?"

Before she could help herself, she blurted out, "The opera."

"What about it?"

She shook her head. "Never mind."

"If you're worried about people killing each other, don't worry. It happens"—

"I'd kill them if they won't die," she said drily, and then sighed. "Thanks, but forget about it."

"Nat, if there's anything you need to know about me, it is that I _don't_ forget about it. I have a photographic memory and an amazing memory recall ability, so even if I want to, I _can't_ forget about it. Plus, I"—

"If you're going to praise yourself, _durak_, I will skin you alive."

"Nat, my jaw hurts, so you better start talking."

Fine. If he wanted to know so badly, she'd tell him. "Where and when are you going to pick me up?"

"After work. Why?"

She didn't want him to pick her up from her home because firstly, it would raise too many questions, and secondly, Katyusha would invite him in, and she didn't think Big Brother would want that.

"Where from?"

"Well, after you close shop, you can change in the restaurant. We're going in our vehicle, so you can sit in the front while I drive, while dad and mom do hanky-panky things at the back." He shuddered. "Unless, of course, you want to sit in the back amidst all that freaky tension"—

"Fine, fine, I get it. Where should I buy the dress from?"

"You don't worry about that. I'm buying it."

"Stop the bike."

"Nat"—

"Stop the bike, Alfred, or I'll _jump_."

"Nat, we're on the bloody highw"—

"I'm jumping"—

"Fine, fine. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"Don't talk about my panties."

"Geez, woman, give me a bloody minute, will you?" he demanded as he moved over to the side, and parked. She got down, and he removed his helmet. "What's your problem?"

"You're not buying me anything."

"Listen, as much as Eliza aunty's my mom's best friend and all, and I mean her no disrespect, but there are better, high end shops in Scottsdale, and I can get stuff for a discount there"—

"So go get it for _yourself_. Don't buy stuff for me."

"Dude, why are you acting so high? It's just a dress"—

"Which I can buy myself at Eli"—

"When there's a better deal at Scottsdale? I'll buy it—you can pay me and stuff. Or I'll ask dad to deduct it from your salary or something. Plus, won't your sister make a big deal of it if you go and buy it yourself? You know what the place is like—gossip moves faster than light here, and that's no joke—it's something even Einstein couldn't figure out. I'll buy—you know what? I'll rent it, and you can just wear it for that one night, and we'll give it away"—

"I'll pay for it."

"We've already established that. Besides, if we rent it, my mom will kill me."

Nat frowned in bewilderment at that one. "Why?"

"I don't know. It's my mom—she's weird. I'll buy, you pay. Fine?"

"Fine."

"Now will you get on and not threaten to jump?"

She muttered something under her breath, clearly embarrassed at that little fit she threw. She got back on the bike; he put on his helmet, and began driving.

It had been a five round match of bare-knuckled boxing, and Al had reduced it to three. He'd sustained some pretty heavy damage to his stomach and chest, but turned down Nat's offer to drive instead of him. His face was bruised as well, but some cream and an ice-pack would take care of it. Since he was leaving for Scottsdale early the next morning, either parent would probably not get a good look at his face, which he was counting on. Either way, he was pretty well prepared, and Nat didn't have to worry about him.

Which, according to him, she was doing a lot nowadays.

_If you only knew why, Alfred. If you only knew why._

"Okay, stop here."

Al, not wanting to see another ultimatum being issued, stopped right there. As she got down, he said, "Dude, this isn't near"—

"It'll do. Thank you."

"I'm going to wait right here until you get home. Send me a message once you reach."

"It's not"—

Nat looked into his eyes, and knew he would do it. The idea that he'd stand there, ready to protect her…

It gave her a strange feeling in her stomach.

She just nodded curtly. "Good night. And take care."

"You tell me that, darlin', once you reach home."

She reached out, but clenched her fist before she could touch him. Confused and frustrated with herself, she turned around and walked away, a pair of electric blue eyes boring into her back.

She hurried home, releasing two knives from the holder beneath her jacket as she walked. As far as she knew, for as long as she'd lived, no one had offered to protect her—not her brothers, not Francis, not Matt…nobody had offered to protect her, just because they deemed her strong enough to just not only protect herself, but all of them at the same time. And now, when Al was doing this…it was so strange she didn't know whether to thank him or turn him away.

He wouldn't be turned away, and she…

She reached home, fished out her keys with one hand. She turned the key in the lock, her ears open for any attack from anywhere—W City had a low crime level, but there were some people like Cross' people who still hated Ivan Braginsky and all that he held dear.

She got into the house, locked the door behind her, and fished out her phone.

_I'm in. Now go away._

The reply came before she could put her phone into her pocket.

_Going, going. Good night._

And before she knew it, she was texting back:

_Good night. And thank you._

She kicked off her shoes, put them in the rack. She walked upstairs to the room, when his reply arrived.

_Anytime, darlin'. Take care._

She removed her coat with one hand, texted with the other.

_Take care._

"Good evening, Natalia."

She froze, hating herself for having taken off her coat. She felt vulnerable, unarmoured, without her coat. But she knew this feeling, was used to this feeling. She quickly shut her phone, slipped it into her pocket, and turned around. "Good evening, Big Brother."

"How was your evening with the elder Bonnefoy?"

"Fine. But I'd think you'd know more about that than I would."

Ivan's smile didn't deviate in the least. "Oh. How so?"

Nat looked at him with the coldest expression she could muster. "I've been with you long enough, Big Brother. I know when I'm being observed."

"You do realize that while you make idle chitchat, the boy could probably lose his life?"

Nat was feeling angry, mutinous. But she had nothing to say to her brother. "Good night, Big Brother."

Ivan was taken aback—he didn't expect Natalia to respond in such a fashion. "Good night, Natalia. Or would you prefer to text me"—

"Don't push me."

Ivan just shrugged at her tone. "Alright. But I hope you will be able to prove his lack of participation in all of this. Good night, Natalia."

His tone suggested that she had to be reminded that until he dismissed her, nobody would leave the room. "Good night, Big Brother."

He closed the door as he left, leaving Nat alone to battle the darkness, both inside and outside herself.

* * *

"There's a woman"—

"I can introduce myself, aru," Chun-Yan said, walking in. She gave the man a look, sending him hurrying on his way. She closed the door behind her, and looked long and hard at Ivan, realizing she didn't like what she was seeing.

"Good morning, Miss"—

"What is wrong with you, aru?"

She whispered it so softly he didn't even pick it up. "Excuse me?"

"What happened to you, Ivan?" she asked, standing right there.

He blinked. "What happened to _me_? I don't know, what happened?"

"One minute, everyone's telling me how wrong they were about you, aru. And now…"

"Now what?"

When she kept quiet at that, he said, "Just because I'm not feeling lost anymore doesn't mean something is wrong with me."

"You look more lost than ever, aru."

And Chun-Yan saw what she'd never wanted to see—the smile that made Ivan the true terror he was. "_Eto tak_?" He got up from behind the desk, and walked to her. "Do tell me. Or are you saying that just because you happen to be more useful when I'm lost?"

She saw it on his face the minute he said it, that he regretted his words. But she wasn't going to let him take them back, simply because he needed to know she couldn't be pushed around, not even by him. "Was that supposed to be an insult, aru? You know better than to insult me." She stormed up to him, and grabbed him by the lapels. "I'll tell you something interesting, aru. No matter how hard you push me away, with your juvenile insults and threats, you will _never_ be able to do it, aru. I will never let go of you, aru. Do you understand?" She released him, taking a little bit of pleasure in seeing him stagger back, off balanced and surprised, and said, "Call me when you've got your head back on your shoulders, aru." She turned around, storming off, but she didn't make it as far as the door.

He caught hold of her from behind, wrapped his arms around her tightly, grabbing onto her like a drowning man. "_Izvinite_," he whispered, burying his head in her neck, killing himself from the inside for forgetting exactly what she meant to him, what she was to him.

She sighed. "Ivan…I know you're hurting inside, aru. But you're not alone. Realize that, Ivan. Relish that. You have us, aru. All of us. You're not alone."

But it would be much, much later before he realized what exactly her words meant.

* * *

"What's your favourite colour?"

"What's my favourite_ what_?"

"Colour," he said, looking at her as if she was daft. "The thing that makes the world a brighter place"—

"Alfred, you _need_ to stop asking me such random questions."

"But the whole point of the game is to ask each other random questions. Now, 'fess up."

"Black."

"Mine's red, blue and white. What did you get on your sixteenth birthday?"

"I'll tell you what I wished I'd gotten—something that you shut you up."

"Aw, come on, Nat. Open up."

He _was_ paying for her dinner, _and _he was transporting her up and down. She sighed. "A teddy bear, paint brushes, a sketchpad, and lingerie. From your dad."

"Yuck."

Nat laughed. "Tell me about it. Something to do with l'amour. I told him I'd take his l'amour and stuff it right down his throat. And he said it happened to him every day."

Al facepalmed himself while Nat made gagging gestures. "Why do I have the most insane parents on the planet?" he asked himself out loud.

"You don't have to listen to him tell supposedly 'romantic' stuff to us all…I told him I'd shoot him in the head if he told me what he did in his sleeping hours ever again, and that Ravis had even brought me a _real_ gun with _real_ bullets for Christmas."

"Did he stop?"

"He stopped," she said disgustedly. "But he hints things now, which is even worse. I swear, the Bonnefoy's made us all a bunch of perverts. Speaking of which," she said, looking at him, "why are you such a prude?"

"Nat, darlin', I'm _anything_ but a prude. And that's not random at all."

Nat gave him a look telling him just how much she cared about that. "You always get—what is it?—grossed out whenever we end up"—

"Dude, the Bonnefoy's my _dad_. I don't want to hear stuff about my _dad_ and my _mom_ doing weird stuff to each other."

"You sound like you're talking about _shchupal'tsa porno_."

"Shut up. Shut up. Yuck. You're sick, Nat."

She just smiled smugly. "Prude."

"I am _not_ a prude! How would you feel if I talked about your parents doing stuff like that?"

Nat looked at him, and he realized just what he'd said. Even as he beat himself up on the inside, Nat actually considered his question.

"You know," she said, startling him, "I'd probably be lucky if I could react the way you do." At his silence, she continued, "I know nothing of them. The first thing I remember from back then is _sestra_ cleaning my wounds and telling me '_vse budet v poryadke_'. '_It's going to be okay_.' I don't remember anything from before then."

"How…how old were you?"

"Five. Or maybe six. _Sestra_ knew how old I was, although I just assumed…" She stared into her plate of chicken curry and rice for a long time, old memories flashing into her head. Katyusha had made her study extra hard, making her master the Russian alphabet within weeks, and then words and sentences in the next two months. By the time she was enrolled into first grade…She wondered whether to tell him or not.

"_Sestra_ was a real headcase. By the time they found me, they already had Eduard. And _sestra_ wanted all of us to be educated, literate. Only the educated could break out of poverty, she said. She made the two of us study the alphabet day and night—Eduard had some time, but I was old enough to be enrolled in first grade. And _sestra_ took it as a personal test to see that I would get into first grade."

She smiled fondly, nostalgically, at that memory, and Al, watching her, felt something tighten in the pit of his stomach. "There were only a few months left. She made the two of us study day and night, and when I cleared the entrance exam and got full marks…you should've seen her," she said. "She was jumping and crying and blubbering and she didn't know what to do…we had shchi, kotlety and pirozhki that night, I remember. And do you know the funniest thing about my sister, Alfred?"

She looked up, and Al's jaw slackened at her tear-filled eyes, and when she smiled, it broke his heart. "My sister was illiterate, until Eduard and I came along. And she taught herself everything, so that we could be in school."

"She's very strong."

Nat laughed. "Oh, she cries for everything—she's the first person to cry during romantic movies, when the hero gets the girl, and she cries when the food she eats tastes delicious, and she'll cry if she stubs her toe against the table. But she's the strongest person in the world."

Al leaned over and took the menu from her, and sat back down, holding the menu up as she stared at the handkerchief he'd dropped into her lap.

Spasibo_, Alfred._

She wiped her eyes, not knowing why she'd told something so personal to Alfred, or how he could've made her tell him something like that.

But she was glad to have told him.

* * *

It had been a really busy day—Nat's feet hurt from not having taken a single break. She and Sophia had made a pact to cover for each other during their breaks. She'd stuffed an éclair into her mouth, and eaten it discreetly, serving tables while Sophia took orders. And while Sophia ate, she took orders. But even though she was busy swinging from one end of the restaurant to the other, taking orders and serving people, she was glad she wasn't in there with her brothers—the kitchen was positively sweltering.

Francis had turned on the heat—literally and figuratively—and the Braginsky boys, Sophia's brother Ricardo and the Bonnefoy were producing dish after dish like tireless machines. Sundays were their busiest, and this Sunday happened to be busier than usual.

So busy they were that they hadn't even noticed the sun setting in the sky. Only after the few odd customers left, Nat looked up and saw the sun setting.

"Hey, wasn't it just afternoon?" Sophia asked.

"_Mon ami,_ I love my customers, but declare us closed before another person comes. Nat, go draw all the blinds," Francis said, and crunched into what was probably the first morsel of food he'd had after his early breakfast.

"You better make us lunch, old man," Nat said as she whizzed off towards the windows. "Sophia, draw the blinds."

Francis plopped on leftovers on plates, and the boys staggered out of the kitchen, pushing their meals on a cart. Francis, a stickler for presentation, didn't let anyone start eating before all the food was arranged onto the four tables they'd pushed in together. And once they started eating, the only one who ate with relative decency was Francis.

They stuffed themselves, removing their shoes and rubbing their tired soles in the process. Nat dragged out another chair just to rest her feet in, and the others quickly followed suit. As soon as the water bottles were finished, someone ran in for the wine, and it wasn't long before people started swinging the wine right from the bottle, much to Francis's chagrin and incredulity. And, within ten minutes, they'd finished all of the leftovers along with two bottles of wine.

"I've…hired a bunch…of gluttons," Francis said, looking at his full—and some drunk—employees.

"That…was fun…" Ricardo said, and turned to Nat. "Your brothers are high."

"_Da,_" she said. "I know." She turned to Toris, the only one of the three who wasn't drunk. "I trust you to take these _deti_ home."

Ravis nodded, and sighed. "_Da, da. YA voz'mu ikh domoy_."

"For being such good employees, I'll let you off early. Nat, you're helping me, _oui_?"

They all looked at Nat, waiting for her to throw some threat against his head or his balls or both, but she just said, "Yeah, whatever. I need to use the bathroom." And then they just watched her get up and rush off to the bathroom.

They watched the door of the ladies' bathroom in shock and surprise, until Francis said, "Okay! How about we clean up now?"

*x*

Nat turned at the knock on the door, and watched as Francis's head peeked in. "What?"

"You need some help, _mon ami_?"

She promised to soap her back a thousand times after this…She turned around, and pointed at her zip. "Zip it up."

"Ohonhonhonhon," Francis said, for which Nat replied, "You so much as _touch_ my skin, and I'll have your _mudak._"

"_Bien sûr, bein sûr_," he said as he zipped her gown up. "You know, I can't wait to see what Alice is wearing. And turn around—let me be the first to tell you how gorgeous you look."

He turned her around, and gasped softly. "_Magnifique_," he whispered as he took in the vision of her in her emerald green gown, with its layered, off-shoulder neckline. The layers covered the top of her chest, and the green cloth emerged underneath, wrapping her lean, curved form. The skirts emerged from the mid-waist, and flared out modestly, the edge of the bodice and the beginning of the skirts marked by the presence of a braided golden cord lopped around her waist.

"Let's do something about your hair," he said, looking at her critically. "And just a touch of makeup should do." And before she could protest, he had her sitting down, his skilful fingers working her hair into a French braid. His fingers soothed, and she decided it better to just sit and enjoy him work on her.

"Alice would envy your hair, _ma petite fille_," Francis commented as he looped her hair. "Her hair isn't as straight as yours—it loops and curls, and snarls an awful lot. And it's usually tug-of-war between me and her hair, so she refuses to French braid her hair. And the colour just shimmers. You have beautiful hair, _mon fille_." He tied the end up, then turned her slightly around. "Now hold still," he said, placing a pocket makeup kit on the table. "It isn't mine—it's Alice's," he said in answer to the look Nat gave him. "Now close your eyes, and hold still."

He began applying makeup. "You know, Alice was _désastre absolu_—an absolute disaster when it came to makeup. And Elizabeta wasn't much help either, although she knew what looked good and what didn't. But neither of you need much makeup. Open your eyes a bit, _mon fille_—now don't close them, or blink."

With expert swipes, he applied eyeliner. "Now close your eyes. You don't need mascara," he whispered as he swapped on eye shadow. "You've got beautiful lashes."

"If you weren't so good at it, I'd kill you."

Francis laughed delightedly. "That's _exactly_ what Alice said. And we're done."

Nat opened her eyes, and stared into the mirror.

"Yes, _mon fille_, it is you. I'll call you out when they—oh, they're here."

"Papa Francis?"

"_Oui_?"

"_M-Merci._"

Which was exactly why he adored the girl to bits. "_De rien. _Now let's go."

* * *

Al's heart stopped beating for long moments as he saw Nat coming out, holding his dad's hand while bickering nonstop with him. He just stood there, frozen, while his mom went out and hugged Nat. He watched her, watched her surprise as Alice hugged her, watched her eyes find him, watched them light up.

And he couldn't…he just couldn't bring himself to move, to go over and take her arm, to _do something, anything_. He was just stuck there, a gaping idiot, looking at her like he'd never seen her before in his life.

And then Nat slipped out from his mom's grasp and made her way to him, and his parents starting doing what they did best, which prompted him to do what he did best when _they_ did what they did best—turn away from the scene. When Nat reached him, he took her arm, and said, "Let's go to the car, shall we?" and the two of them walked away, trying to block out the noisy kissing in the back.

Francis looked down at his wife's face—flushed, lusty, _delicious_. He could probably eat her right there—in fact, he wanted to eat her right there.

He lowered his mouth back on hers, holding her closer to his chest when she struggled. He ran his fingers in slow, lazy circles over her nape, reducing her to moans and shudders. He couldn't believe the rush of lust he still felt every time they kissed, the absolute joy every time he saw her, as if he hadn't seen her for too long. He'd expected it to mellow down with time, but…

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, and looked at her. "_Bonjour_."

She just smiled. "You bloody arse. We're going to be late."

He looked up. "That, or they're going to leave without us. We'd better get going."

And even though Alice thought it was absurdly teenage-ish, she interlaced her fingers with his, and the two of them walked to the car, hand in hand.

They entered, and Alfred started the car. "Did you tell Nat your tendency to drive insanely?"

"It isn't as bad as dad's, mum"—

"Hey!"

"Also, I propose a ban on the two of you doing _things_ while I'm driving. I'll dump you both outside at the first signs of smooching."

"I second that," Nat said, pulling on her seat belt, stifling a laugh when Alice hit him hard on the head. "Just drive, you idiot!"

Grumbling and muttering about his crazy family, Al started the car, and they were off.

* * *

Al loved orchestras.

It was rather odd, and people wouldn't so much as believe it if anybody else told them that, but Al loved orchestras. He had been raised on them, given his mother's love for orchestral music and his father's love for playing the piano. Francis had raised both his sons on a diet of classics and had taught them both how to play the piano, and even if they never learnt how to play the classics properly, they loved the sound and the music of instruments.

Alice and Francis, after judging their children's interests and deeming them of the correct age, began taking both of them along for recitals and orchestras. Of course, once they both entered their teens, only Alice and Francis went once in a while, but for all the Bonnefoys, the harmonious and powerful sound of the orchestra was something nothing could match.

But, of course, operas were a totally different thing for Al.

His parents were crazy about operas, but he just didn't find it in him to like them the way he loved orchestral music. He even knew that the vocal range possessed by opera singers was spectacular, and that only a few people could do it. He appreciated them and their abilities and talents, but it didn't come under his taste. So he watched the elaborate costumes, and tuned out the singing where it hurt his ears, listening to the music when it suited his harmony.

Of course, _The Marriage of Figaro_ by Mozart was something he could enjoy, and after a while, he closed his eyes and listened to the music. Captured, he was taken away to another time and place, where voices flowed over one another and instruments played in soothing harmony, the music produced being ethereal and powerfully gripping.

A sudden weight on his shoulder startled him from his meditation, and he opened his eyes. He looked down, and found a golden head resting on his shoulder.

"Nat?"

She mumbled something that sounded very close to, "Tired," and snuggled closer.

He just looked at her, then glanced briefly at his watch. He picked up the coat he'd removed somewhere in the beginning, and covered her with it. He looked at his watch again—there was quite a bit of time before the interval…Until the lights came on, he'd sit there, her sleeping form by his side.

Until the lights came on, he'd watch her sleep.

* * *

**A/T: I finished reading 'The Princess Diaries' series—except the ninth book, because it's supposedly bakwaas—and I'm reading Gamaran now. And my dad's reading 'The Hunger Games'. Radium (my Princess Diaries supplier) said she was ashamed to be holding such books. I loved all of them!**

**The chapter's early in it's coming, since all I've had the entire week are holidays—Tuesday was a half day, because of some workshop, then Thursday was Independence Day, and yesterday was Varmahalakshmi, and today was ****_supposed_**** to be a working day, but all the male teachers went to Hyderabad to see their families…I love the months from August to December, 'cause it's holiday time!**

**There were two bats in my house…it was scary. For once, my dog and I exchanged roles—I was the scared one while he was the brave one. I love my dog.**

**Welcome back, Scarlett! **

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	36. Chapter 26: Onto Scottsdale

**A/T: I cube, my college science fest, is this SATURDAY! Oh my fecking god, I'm so bloody hyped!**

**You guys—Adei, Scarlett, Em—have no idea what your reviews do to me. It gives me a bloody reason to laugh like a maniac. It gives me a reason to write. It gives me a reason to be proud of what I do—you guys have no idea what confidence you've instilled in me about my writing. I know I'm being bloody sentimental, but I saw the three of your reviews today, and I was like—I might be happy making others happy with what I do, but it makes me happier knowing what you think. It's being told you're worth it. Thanks, guys who read and who review and PM. I love you guys.**

**I finished reading Gamaran…EPICNESS. And I went on a rampage and downloaded 'Russia—Light my Heart', 'Paris is truly splendid', 'The land of the rising sun', 'Absolutely invincible British gentleman', 'Aiyaa Yonsennen' and China's Hatafutte Parade. All this on Sunday, and I've been mad since. And I'm in love with France—anything he says, he makes me melt. Like, right there—a dribbling mass of humanity. I swear, he's the first guy I've wished was real and mine. I love you, Francis Bonnefoy. Especially your Japanese voice. **

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

**Claimer(?): My online besties and I totally own Random Questions.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 26

"What's your favourite food?"

"My sister's food. Anything she cooks."

"Your turn."

"…The most painful thing that's happened to you."

"Kicked right there by my ex-ex-ex-girlfriend."

"Oh?" Nat said, jumping up in interest. "Who is this heroine?"

"One question that's supposed to be random," Al said starchily. "Okay, my turn. Painting or sketching—what do you love more?"

Nat blinked. "How do you know I draw?"

Al reached out, flicked a chunk of chicken from her plate and popped it in his mouth. "Mom. Dad. Everyone knows you draw. Now, answer question."

"It's like asking me whether I like one side of the coin or the other," Nat commented. "I get to sketch more than I do to paint."

"Do you carry your sketch pad everywhere?"

"Sometimes. Or a notepad and a pen."

"Can I see?"

"I don't have it with me now."

"No, not now. What about we…you know what? I'll swing by the restaurant tomorrow. I'll eat something for the sake of it—how about you get it then?"

She shrugged. "Fine. What's the girl's name?"

"Who"—he looked at her, arched an eyebrow. "You aren't going to give up, are you?"

"Answer."

"I hate myself."

"Wrong answer." Gods, but she was enjoying herself thoroughly. And he knew. And she enjoyed that, too.

"Why do you want to know?"

Honestly, she wanted to congratulate the girl, and then give her a big kiss bang on the mouth. "Exchange notes."

He groaned and lowered his head.

After the first time they'd gone for a pre-match dinner, he'd not eaten again, since he fought better on an empty stomach. When she'd asked him why he'd eaten the first time, he'd told her he didn't want her to eat alone. Touched, and slightly embarrassed, she'd muttered her thanks.

She couldn't believe that the carefree, obnoxious idiot she felt like chocking changed into the prowling, fast limbed predator that ruled the world inside the ring. She'd become a regular, so none of the other audience minded when she sat in the stack of hay and began sketching. She did have her sketching pad with her, but she didn't really want to show the object of her sketches her pictures—his ego would probably grow so much his head would blow up and his brains would splatter all over her. And she didn't want that at all.

Anyways…"Name her."

He was going to kill himself, by the looks of it, and Nat realized she'd never enjoyed random questions more.

* * *

"Boss?"

Alice looked up, and saw her secretary, Ms Churchill, standing at the door. "Yes?"

"Miss Wang is here."

Alice put down the document in hand, and got up. "Bring her in."

Ms Churchill left the room. Alice turned the chairs—after that initial time when they'd sat with a table between them, they'd never done it again—to face each other. She finished just as there was a knock. Alice didn't need to answer—Chun-Yan walked in, still in her work clothes—a traditional, long sleeved long top and a pair of slacks, faded and comfortable.

Alice gestured to the chairs, and Chun-Yan nodded. She closed the door behind her, and the two women sat opposite each other.

"What is it, aru?"

Alice dragged out a document from underneath the disorganized pile on her desk, and handed it to Chun-Yan. "For the past three weeks, I've been having certain…hindrances…occurring regularly, especially in the case of transport and storage." Chun-Yan continued to read the document, but Alice knew she was paying attention by the frown on her face. Chun-Yan rarely frowned. "Simply to say, we're having our trucks stopped, godowns burnt, our goods tampered with, our truck drivers threatened and our shipping employees kicked around. And there have been threats of burning us down. Tea?"

Chun-Yan jolted as her attention broke, and she saw Alice accepting the tea-tray from Ms Churchill. She poured out tea for both of them, and handed a cup to Chun-Yan, who accepted it, since it was perfectly normal for Alice to drop the death on someone, then hold it just because it was tea time.

Still, Chun-Yan knew better than to take long drafts of tea when Alice was talking.

"My men have figured out exactly who's done it. And I'm surprised that Ivan Braginsky would be doing such a thing."

Chun-Yan dropped the cup, but Alice caught it neatly and placed it to the side. Still, Chun-Yan picked it up, and held it in front of her with both hands.

Alice saw the defensive gesture. "I called you here, Chun-Yan, not because I assume that you're his keeper. I came here because you understand him better than anyone else. I'll probably say something that'll be unnecessary and detrimental to the business."

"You're furious, aru," Chun-Yan said softly.

Alice smiled, but the glint in her eyes scared even Chun-Yan. "Yes. I am. Very much, even. But threatening a man like Ivan goes nowhere."

"You want me to talk to him, aru."

Alice nodded. "His siblings' employment isn't in jeopardy—I know of Ivan's decision in keeping his siblings out of his business. I'll ignore this if it stops, no matter what be the losses. But more than anything else, Chun-Yan," she said as Chun-Yan opened her mouth to ask, "I want to know _why_ he did it. And that isn't something I can ask him."

Chun-Yan nodded. "I understand." She tapped the file with a finger. "Can I keep this, aru? I want to read it thoroughly."

Alice gazed at Chun-Yan's face intently for long moments, and Chun-Yan suspected it was the only copy she had. Before she could ask, however, Alice said, "Burn it, if you want, once you're done reading it."

Chun-Yan was used to having Alice think ahead, way ahead, and nodded. She was going to burn it, because she couldn't think of having to keep anything hidden from Ivan.

"Is that all?"

"Fantastic job on the restaurant. If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd hidden a money-printing press in the kitchen instead of talented chefs." Chun-Yan rose, and as she reached the door, Alice called out, "The day isn't far when you buy the restaurant from me."

Chun-Yan grinned. "That's the plan, aru."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Chun-Yan nodded. "Goodbye, Mrs Bonnefoy."

"Goodbye, Miss Wang."

Alice sat back, contemplating what the hell was going on. She was Chun-Yan's confidante—she had always been—and she knew of Chun-Yan's anxiety concerning Ivan.

Which was why she hadn't gotten to destroying him already.

But if Chun-Yan said she'd do it, she'd do it. Alice would trust her with her entire empire on any given day.

Alice's phone rang, and she was jolted out of her thoughts. She took out her phone, and saw the caller. Deeming it impersonal enough to eat while talking—a rule she would never see broken by her son, at least in front of her, but thought it perfectly alright to do it with her son—she took a biscuit from the tea-tray. Besides, she didn't chomp as rudely as her son did.

"How may I help you?"

"Mom, do you mind if I borrow Natalia from your restaurant? For two, three days?"

"Son, you do not pinch away my employees. I'll have your business beheaded."

"That's why I said _borrow_, mom. I'll return her. Sharon's gone with her sons on a holiday, so I don't have my top artist in my team. And the Military's coming in another four days, by when we need to have the blueprints and designs drawn. Plus, Nat's drawings are awesome—she'll be an effing billionaire with her drawings alone. I know a few people who'll totally have her in their business"—

"Is that how you're convincing her to come, son?" she asked, noticing his restrain in using foul language with her. She didn't mind the occasional 'fuck', 'bastard', 'bloody', 'asshole'—she used them herself, quite a few times—but her son had made it a habit as an adolescent, and it was awful while getting him to speak without adding a curse after every other word.

"She's trying to get dad to disagree, but he saw her drawings, and he heard about the guys I want her to meet, and he's totally agreeing."

"Why not just get her the blueprints and"—

"Mom, you know _Sharon_. She's bloody _obsessed_ over her instruments. If it's so much as moved from point A to point B without her permission, she blows her top. I sent her a few snaps of Nat's drawings, so she agreed. If I tell her I'm moving her stuff from Scottsdale to W City, she'll kill me—or worse. Besides, Nat refuses to hand over her sketch pad and her paintings, so I'll have to take her with me."

"Killing two birds with one stone, eh?" Alice murmured. "Three days, you said?"

"Yeah. Give and take."

"What's Nat saying?"

"She thinks I'm making a big fuss out of it."

Alice knew he had a tendency to do that, but Nat's drawings had a piece of her soul in each stroke, in each sketch. She could understand her refusal to give Al her drawings—Al's word was as good as gold, but he wouldn't probably care for it as much as Nat would.

"It's a good opportunity for her. Take her along."

"Awesome. Thanks, mom. She'll probably call you up and stuff, so just convince her, okay? Whatever you tell her gets through. And dad told me to tell you that grandmere's going to call in the afternoon or something—she called him up and ate his brains. You're married to a zombie, mom"—

"I don't care if I'm married to the very devil, Alfred, as long as he's Francis Bonnefoy."

"Yuck."

"Don't be childish, Alfred."

"Whatever, mom. Well, that's all. I need to skedaddle. See you."

"Bye, Al."

"Bye, mom."

She set the phone down, and even though it was just ten in the morning, she was steeling herself for the conversation with _Maman_, the Grand Lady Bonnefoy, Agatha Bonnefoy. The woman was crazy—she was probably from where Francis got his extreme flirtatious tendencies, and her quality of stubbornness far surpassed a mule. And she still continued to try and teach her daughter-in-law French—she'd speak in French, while Alice replied in crisply accented English, and it wasn't only on the phone. And she was probably the only mother-in-law who had an obsessive interest in Alice's bedroom life. She…she was probably the craziest, most hyper person Alice ever knew, even more that Elizabeta herself.

Mother-in-laws were an extraordinary breed of women.

* * *

"Mom agreed," Al said smugly, and at Nat's 'damn-it' expression, he laughed. "Oh, come on, Nat. It's not so bad—you'll get to draw your heart out, and that's awesome, right? Plus, you'll get to keep your own hours as long as you finish the work, and I'll be paying you twice of what dad pays you per day. Plus, there are a bunch of guys who'd probably kill for your stuff"—

"Whom?"

"I know a bunch of publishers and animators who'd want you to do covers and the likes. And there are galleries who'd put up your paintings"—

"Why?"

"Huh?" Al said, totally cut from his train of speech. "What do you mean…Nat," he said gently, reading the apprehension in her eyes. "Nat, that's what friends and well-wishers do—when I see your stuff, I want the entire world to see your stuff. Call me crazy, but it makes me proud to show your talent off—and you have talent, so don't shake your head, you crazy woman. It'll be an experience—mom will tell you the same thing if you talk to her. Do you"—

"No," she said. He was right—Mama Alice would be game, and tell Nat to go right ahead. Nat knew that Alice would've done that a very long time ago herself, but Alice was growing steadily and increasingly busy from the past years. But if she was perfectly okay with it, Nat didn't know how she could explain it to Mama Alice.

_You can get to know whether he was involved or not._

That was the only reason why she was doing this. To confirm, and to keep him safe. Because…

She sighed resignedly. "Fine. I'll come. But when"—

She wanted to ask when they were going, how they were going, where would she say there, but all her million questions vanished into the heavily scented air of the diner when Al let out a gleeful yelp and hugged her all the way from the other end of the table. One hand found itself in his hair, the other arm curled around the entire expanse of his shoulders. She flinched, the nerves in her hand singing at the feel of his soft, full hair under her hand. Her hand could feel his warm body underneath the jacket, and her senses were filled by him. He smelled of mint, wood and an utterly knee-jellifying male scent, he felt warm and strong, and she was feeling fuzzy all over, from top to bottom and back to the top.

An unfamiliar emotion welled up in her, first slowly, then with such rapidity that she drew back abruptly, letting him go. He sat back down, and gruffly said, "Eat fast. We need to go."

Her whole body was blushing, it seemed. But when she sneaked a look at him, his entire face was red as well—and she didn't want to think about whether _his_ body was flushed as well.

Sometimes, she thought as she shovelled food into her mouth, it was better to listen to him.

* * *

Nat was surprised at her brothers' and sister's reaction—and infuriated. They demanded to see _all_ her paintings, and when she told them she couldn't bring all of them down and show them, they stormed up, led by Kat, and looked at all her paintings and sketches and artwork—except the ones she'd made of Al and Matt—those she'd managed to hide quite cleverly. Kat was so absolutely overjoyed she had tears in her eyes, and her brothers were stunned. Ravis hugged her and praised her work, Eduard just stood there, flummoxed, while Toris continued to drag out one painting after the other.

Nat just stood at the door, fingers crossed that they wouldn't find her sketchbooks, but she was really surprised at their reactions. For her, art had always been…there. She didn't know a time when she hadn't drawn _something_ or the other. It was always there, in the background, discreet. Kat did notice it when Nat was a little girl, but after drowning in her depression, she hadn't a moment for anyone else. There was her…relationship with Ivan, and she'd never thought of showing her work to her younger brothers. She didn't know why. She just hadn't done it.

And watching them now…it just made her…

Happy.

"Where's Big Brother?" Nat asked suddenly. It was late, and Ivan would be back by then. Kat looked up, missing Nat's formal address of Ivan in her excitement, and said, "He's with Miss Wang. She told me he wouldn't be coming back tonight."

Nat smiled slyly when her sister went back to looking at her work, and hoped her brother was happy, at least with Miss Wang.

But she was quite far away from the truth.

* * *

"Where are your brothers and sister?"

"Doing the overnight shift for the restaurant, aru," Chun-Yan said. "I have something to say, aru, but I don't know how to say it."

Ivan smiled. "Something about me, _da_?"

She looked at him, frustrated and feeling defeated at the same time. How could he…Her loyalty towards Alice was unshakable—after everything Alice had done for her…she knew she couldn't expect him to have the same loyalty, but she just had to know _why_.

"Do you have a personal grudge against Alice Bonnefoy, aru?" she asked softly, as quietly as she could.

He looked at her, confused, but only for a second. His eyes hardened over, and her frustration grew, bubbling up like a sick man's bile. "What did she tell you?" he asked her, in the same, soft voice.

Chun-Yan shook her head. "Why you're doing it. She just wants to know why, aru."

"Chun-Yan"—

"Ivan, why are you doing it, aru?"

"Why did she put you up for this?"

"Because she's _furious_," Chun-Yan said, frustration edging her voice. "And she doesn't want to make an enemy of you or your family, aru. She doesn't want revenge or any such thing—she just wants answers, aru."

"Don't we all?" he whispered softly, and looked up at her. "Do you want me to stop?"

"_Yes_." When he opened his mouth, Chun-Yan spoke before he did. "I want to know why you did all that more than I want you to stop, aru."

"That I can't tell you"—

Chun-Yan swore long and loudly. The confines of the chair were too much for her; she pushed the chair back and began pacing. "If you—Ivan, I want to…" She calmed herself down. She refused to lose her cool in front of anyone, and bargaining with Ivan without her composure spelt disaster. "Tell me what's going on, aru."

"I can't tell you."

"Nothing at all, aru?"

He met her blank gaze with a cool one. "Nothing at all."

She walked to the window, sat on the projected sill, and curled up into a ball, her head between her knees. She began laughing at the incredulity of it all as a million thoughts ran through her head, growing more unpleasant as they occurred. Then, finally, she whispered, "I'm a fool, aru."

"Why?"

He was sitting right in front of her. She lowered her legs from in front of her face, and she looked at him. And before either of them knew it, she reached out, and placed her mouth on his.

Ivan made a tiny sound of surprise, quickly swallowed by her probing tongue. She ran her tongue in, engulfing his taste in greedy gulps. He drew her even closer until she was sitting in his lap, freeing the plaits in her hair as he tilted his head slightly, drew her lips into his mouth. His hand dove into her long, free hair, pressing her mouth hard to his as he dominated. The heat in her veins surged suddenly, pumping ferociously as she fought back for dominance, for her footing. But in the spiralling world of heat and lightning and _him_, she would always drown.

At least she wasn't coward enough to admit it to herself.

She pulled back, but Ivan recaptured her mouth. With a tiny moan, she drew back further, pushing him back with one hand. He was breathing heavily, so was she. His heart was beating a million times per minute underneath her hand, and she could hear her own beat hard in her ears.

Her hand inched up; her thumb brushed over his lower lip. "I trust you enough to sit on you, without a knife or a gun or anything, not even the walls around my heart, aru. But when the day comes, when you can sit before me without a weapon or a wall, you'll find a place in my heart there for you, aru. But until then, Ivan," she said regretfully, brushing the hair away from his eyes, "it's going to be painful for both of us, aru."

And neither of them had any idea exactly how painful it'd be.

* * *

"Let's go."

She nodded, and hefted her bag a little higher on her back. He'd asked her to carry two evening dresses, three changes of clothes—since he didn't know for sure whether it'd be three days or nearly a week—and her toilette. He told her they'd buy a formal suit later in Scottsdale, so she didn't have to panic. She walked to her Harley, got on, and pulled on her helmet. They'd decided to go on their bikes, since Nat didn't really like the idea of depending on anyone for transport, and because Al knew shortcut roads with picturesque views that he guaranteed would blow her away. Always game for long-distance biking, Nat had agreed.

She'd driven up to Al's home in the morning, having said goodbyes to her family earlier. They were actually quite happy, and except for Ivan, didn't suspect anything different about the whole thing. Al had been rushing around the house—she'd heard him from all the way outside. She'd come in, only to see him running from one room to another, toothbrush in mouth, pajamas halfway down, revealing his blue, white and red boxers. He didn't see her, but she'd seen him—quite a _bit_ of him, too. She'd gone and helped Francis make breakfast for Alice and Al, and the routine that they'd adapted from working together in the restaurant soothed her nerves.

They'd served up food, and to spare herself from being stuffed in the mouth with Francis's cooking, she wandered around the house, and finally found herself in Matt's room.

Not knowing what to do, she'd stood there awhile, swallowing down the awful feeling that was bubbling up her throat, and then left the room.

By the time she'd come down, they were done eating, and Al was ready. And now, as the wind ruffled her leather jacket, they were on the road.

The main road was noisy and crowded, and Nat was grateful when Al lead the way into a side path that opened up to a well-laid stretch of road from where the sea could be seen—far off in the distance, but still visible. Nat loved going on long rides—it just let her lose herself to the wind, to the roaring engine pumping underneath her, to the black asphalt speeding away beneath her—to everything. It all appealed to her—the solitude, the peace of mind, and the calmness of riding on the road not taken.

Her peaceful meditation was broken when Al raised his hand. She recognized the signal as pulling over to the side, and raised her hand back in response. He cut to the side, and drove into the trees. Nat pulled her focus together, and followed him.

They parked their vehicles off the road, in between some bushes. Nat got off, took off her helmet and let it dangle from one handlebar. When she looked up, she saw Al standing by his bike, picnic hamper in his hand.

"We'll have lunch here, okay? It's gonna get quite a bit hotter now, so I thought we could rest for a while," Al said as she removed her bandanna. She used the bandanna as a hairband and tied up her hair, removed her jacket and stuffed it in her bag. She followed him, and he led her further into the woods. They came across a clearing, and Al dropped the hamper down on the grass. He removed his jacket and tied it around his waist, revealing his lean and muscular form. Nat looked away quickly, and looked at the surroundings.

It was a rather large clearing, making Nat wonder why they hadn't brought their bikes along. "Oi, Alfred, why couldn't we park here?"

"The path's too narrow to bring the bikes—don't worry, the bikes are hidden quite well."

She clasped her hands behind her, and stretched as she looked around. It was nice, shady and quiet—and Nat could see the sea from this height. She inched closer towards the edge closer to the sea, startled suddenly when she felt Al coming up behind her.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he murmured, looking out.

She nodded, looking away. It was afternoon, and the farms that stretched below them were quiet and peaceful. There was a field of sunflowers, their yellow heads mirroring the afternoon sun. The hills beyond rolled gentle and green, and the blue, glittering sea peeked in between the mounds of the hills. The sun wasn't too harsh, and the whole place just seemed…alive.

"Let's eat here," he whispered, his voice flowing into her ears, the words accentuated by the lack of artificial noise in the surroundings. She didn't know whether it was the view, or the golden colour the sun lent to all underneath it, or the breeze that carried his voice to her, but at that time, there was nothing as mesmerizing as the play of his voice with the soft wind. She turned, and saw him already sitting. He held out his hand; she placed it in his, and sat. They ate the fare Francis had made for them the previous night—chicken soup, still hot, freshly baked bread with cheese spread liberally, the crepes Al had had for breakfast, ratatouille, and strawberry tarts. For a while they spoke about what Nat would do upon reaching Scottsdale, but conversation died out quickly, and they just stared, wrapped by the peace that seemed to emanate from the very soil.

"Nat."

She turned around, looked at him. His golden hair was on fire, his blue eyes smouldered, and the air buzzed with hidden tension. He raised his hand, brushed aside a crumb of the strawberry crust from her, and she found herself unable to move.

"I want to kiss you, Nat. Can I?"

She blinked at him, uncomprehending, his words coming from too far away. A roaring sound grew in between her ears, and heat spiralled dangerously in her stomach.

_I want to kiss you, Nat._

She stared at him, and realization grew within her as well. She looked into his eyes—they burned and, yet, were serious.

_He means it._

She snapped the silence around them with a long, loud curse, and closed the space between them.

* * *

**A/T: I-cube was yesterday, and…it was anticlimactic. It built up ****_so_**** well, and then…they had to go screw up in announcing the results of the winners of the overall I-cube. They called school A as the winners of I-cube and school B as runner ups, and then corrected it a few moments later by announcing School B as the winners and school A as the runners up, whereas the actual results were that School A won and School C were the runners up—School B weren't even there on the list. We felt like such jackasses…after everything we'd done for the past two months, they had to ruin the whole thing by screwing up with the announcements.**

**Well, I guess this is going to stretch to an extra chappie…I was planning to wrap it up in this chapter, but I have a seven-day week this week—which means I have school the coming Sunday ****_till 5:30 in the fecking evening._**** If you guys don't get a chappie next week, it's because I'm dead due to exhaustion. I'll try to do what I can do, but I'll work on it whenever I can.**

**If you liked it even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


	37. Chapter 27: It can hurt and feel good

**A/T: You guys are FECKING AWESOME.**

**I wake up Monday and I check MFN…and I start squealing.**

**You guys are so fecking awesome, you have no fecking idea. And I fecking can't stop saying fecking.**

**BLOODY ALBINO POLAR BEAR, WELCOME TO THE MFN FAMILY!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

_For Bloody Albino Polar Bear—you gave me a heart attack bang Monday morning…and I'm finding it easier to survive the week._

_For Scarlett and Adei and Em—you guys are stickier than superglue, and I love you for it._

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 27

"We're here."

Nat noticed that—they'd driven into the basement of an apartment complex, and Al had parked by a wall with a board with his name on it. Nat parked the Harley alongside his, and since he took his helmet with him, she found it advisable to follow suit.

She followed him up the stairs, removing her helmet and slinging it so that it dangled from her elbow. She reached out, took the hamper from him, their fingers touching. At once, the ghost of the feel of his gingers over her cheeks flitted across her skin, jolting her.

"It's okay," he said. "I'll carry it."

She gave him a glare that loosened his hold on the hamper. She yanked the hamper from him, feeling like a fool, for some reason.

They walked onto the first floor, and Al led her down a long corridor, to the fifth room to the right—Room number 42. He unlocked the door, snatched the hamper from her, giving her a smug smile at her slack jaw. As he walked away, she curled her fingers like claws, and followed him in, fuming.

The room was surprisingly neat and tidy—it wasn't over the top, and Nat wryly wondered how he could've held himself back. She could see two rooms, a separate open kitchen with counters and an island in the middle, and a very spacious living room with a large, flat-screen television, flanked on all sides by drawers filled with video game CDs arranged categorically, and closets with glass dors underneath holding a DVD reader and many gaming consoles. Bean bags were scattered before the television, plush couches were arranged around a coffee table heaped with papers and books.

"Welcome to my house!" Al said excitedly, and when he was excited, he was _loud_. "This is my living room, that's the kitchen—over there is my room, that over there is the guest room, and after that is the study."

So it was a 3BHK, not a 2BHK like she'd assumed. She walked to the guest room, dropped her bag to the side and fell into bed. And without preamble, she closed her eyes and was fast asleep.

* * *

She woke up, three hours later, fresher than before. Even though her body ached slightly, unused to the long ride from W City to Scottsdale, she felt refreshed. She tilted her head to the side, and looked out of the window. It was dark. Suppressing a yawn, she got up and stretched, looking around. Sometime during her sleep someone had draped a blanket over her. The room was Spartan—it had a row of cupboards along one wall, and the door of the attached bathroom. There was a bookshelf to the right of the door, the bed she was sitting on, and a large landscape oil painting along the entire length of the wall.

Nat got up, picked up her bag and found it empty. By intuition, she walked to the cupboard and opened it, just to find her things already arranged neatly. Muttering under her breath, she dropped the bag into the cupboard, washed her face in the bathroom, and walked out into the corridor.

She roamed around the apartment, taking in the décor. The house was quite simple, but there was a woman's touch—Alice Bonnefoy must've definitely had her hand in all of this. Nat couldn't think of Al allowing his parade of girlfriends actually moving his things around. What she knew of his history with girls was mostly accurate—they loved the idea of being with him, but actually being with him was different from anything they could thing. He was very dedicated to his work, and the ladies whom he went out with weren't very supportive of the same.

She didn't find him anywhere. She didn't look in the study—there was a huge board on the door which said, "_Trespassers will prosecute themselves._" Smiling, she went to the kitchen, listening to the growling of her stomach. She raised the cupboard—the stuff on the pantry was fresh, surprisingly—and began making dinner with what she could work with.

Al crawled out of the study two hours later, led to the kitchen by the delicious smell emanating from the kitchen. "What the…?" he muttered, looking at Nat cooking.

"Take care of the oven," Nat said, stirring the beef stroganov. "The dessert and the…knish are there." Just as he reached the oven, it began to ring. He hurried over, but was suddenly blinded by the oven mittens. He took them off, his eyes just as Bat said, "You drop my knish, I'll cook _you_ instead."

He muttered under his breath, wore the mittens and removed the food laden trays from the oven. A waterfall of drool nearly unloaded from his mouth at the scent, and he quickly set the tray away from himself on the table. He turned, saw Nat turn the fire off and slide the food into the bowl. He nearly died as he watched the thick, hot, spicy broth flow into the bowl, followed by the plopping of steamy pieces of meat and vegetables. He quickly began setting the table as she arranged the food, and before she could ask him, he took everything to the table. He would've started serving both of them if she hadn't gotten there first, pushed him into his seat and served both of them.

He began wolfing down the contents of his plate even before she sat down. She rolled her eyes at his ridiculously noisy way of eating, and began eating her food.

They didn't converse—they were too busy stuffing themselves. Finally, when all the dishes were licked clean, they pushed it aside, piling one atop the other, and looked at each other.

"I was going to order out, but…"

"I'm not going to cook every day, _durak_."

He nodded. "That was delicious." He got up, took the dishes and dumped them in the sink. Nat followed, and began washing the dishes, while Al poured out two glasses of cola. He handed one to her.

She raised an eyebrow, took it from him. "No vodka?" she asked.

"You're washing the dishes, darlin'. I don't think I'll have the time to buy stuff when you trash the house."

She drained the glass in one gulp, then looked at him. "I can more than handle my vodka."

"You know, since we've spared time in ordering stuff—_you've_ spared time in order stuff," he quickly changed at her glare, "let's play a game."

"A game. This is what you got me here for—to play games with you"—

"Trust me, when you start working tomorrow, you won't have time to _think_," he said. "Besides, I saw it in some movie yesterday, and I totally want to see if normal people like us"—Nat snorted at that—"can do it, too."

"Where did you see it?" she asked as she rinsed the last of the dishes.

"Some martial arts movie"—

"We both know martial arts."

"Yeah, but that guy was the sauce. You want to try it?"

Nat shrugged, wiping her hands on her jeans. "_Da_. Okay."

And five minutes late, she wished she hadn't.

"_Ublyudok_!" she swore loudly, trying to gain her balance, Al's loud laugh grating on her fear-charged nerves. She wanted to swing at him, but any movement would tip both of them.

They were balanced on a circular table top placed on top of a cylinder, teetering precariously on all sides. Al wanted her to fight with him of top of that. And when she'd laughed at it, he'd called her a coward. And they'd gotten on at the same time, to avoid falling down, and now…

He bent low, swept his feet in an arc, trying to knock her off. She jumped up, landed as lightly as she could.

He gave her a belligerent grin, began walking around the edge of the table. She felt the table tip, and began walking in the same direction, keeping him opposite her. They circled for a while, looking at each other, and she grew more and more aware of him. The uneasy heat grew, constricted by layers and layers, but Nat could feel her core burning. She swung her leg, placed it on the table and using the momentum created by the twist, used her other leg as a whiplash, letting it swing across.

He ducked, advanced. She drew her leg back, stepped to the side, causing the table to tip. He moved back, and the balance was maintained. He nodded approvingly, and they began circling each other.

Nat took a step heavier than usual, used the force to propel herself at Al. The plan was to punch him off the table, then balance herself on the table, easier to do with only herself to keep on top. But she didn't count on Al _catching _her, lifting her slightly off her feet. Her weight fell fully on top of him, and they both fell off the chair and onto the mattress below, the table top sliding off and falling down next to the cylinder.

She looked at him, her entire body burning, paralyzed, oversensitive. Her mind was blank, working on pure need. She reached out, pushed his hair away from his eyes, not taking her gaze away from his. His body thrummed underneath her, his heart beating underneath her.

"Kiss me, Natalia."

She closed her eyes at his voice, felt him shift slightly underneath. She opened her eyes, blinked at his eyes, glasses absent. He cupped her face, drew her down.

He tasted of spice. Nat ran the tip of her tongue over his lips; he opened his mouth to her, his tongue meeting hers. The tentative touch fired up her system; a short, shuddering breath left her. His lips pressed against her, his tongue filled her mouth, his minty, male scent filled her senses.

They kissed, slow, smooth, heated. He nipped at her lip, slowly withdrew. She opened her eyes, saw her looking at him.

The heat in her died suddenly, and bile rose at once. Quietly, without saying a word, she got up, and walked out of the room, moving to the guest room. Her insides were trembling, but she pushed down her emotions, just in case he followed her, like he had when they'd kissed at the meadow near the highway. Then, she had had the excuse of reaching Scottsdale as soon as possible. But now…?

He didn't follow her—she gave him that much credit. She closed the door, sat down on the bed, and curled into a ball, missing her family like she'd never done before.

She had never thought that this could've turned into a bad idea.

* * *

He didn't say anything the next morning, but didn't act awkwardly either, so they breakfasted in unstrained silence, eating can-pancakes with ice-cream. Nat decided to make the food while she stayed there, and she let him know about it, too.

"You're gonna spoil me, Nat," he joked. "Besides, dad would give me hell for making a girl do my work for me—especially my guest."

"I refuse to eat tinned food"—

"You _like_ the ice-cream!"

"I've never heard of having vanilla ice-cream for breakfast!"

"That's beside the point. Do you want me to order?"

"_Net, durak_. I want to cook. And I will do it"—

"As you say, lady"—

She cut him off with a hellish glare. "Say that again, Bonnefoy," she dared him softly, and began eating her pancakes, ending the conversation.

But Al didn't really care. "We're going to the office today. Do you want to work there, or would you like to work here?"

"Didn't you say the lady I'm substituting for won't let you anywhere near her instruments?"

"Well, if you convince her, you could work here. It's up to you." He got up, took her empty plate from her. "But she's batshit crazy when she's not talking about work."

Nat shrugged, and got up. "Then we'll just talk about work," she said, and he turned around, musing out loud, "But then again, _you're_ batshit crazy, too."

The scream that erupted from his throat as Nat's knife grazed his neck was enough to keep her happy the entire day.

* * *

Sharon _was_ batshit crazy, but she was very professional when it came to her work. She ran Nat through the rough sketches, the measurements they actually needed, and what each of the measurement and drawing instruments did. She spent some more time in telling Nat was each model was all about, and Nat found herself taking notes in her sketchpad.

"Do you have some of your work with you right now?" Sharon asked, blowing her brown hair out of her eyes. "I could look at it while you try and make one of these prints."

Nat nodded, and handed one of her books over to Sharon. They quietly worked, Nat occasionally asking Sharon questions. Once in a while, Nat would get a glimpse of Sharon's hands, and her hair would shift to reveal the burnt region over her left jawbone and neck. She'd married young, and the sick bastard, in his drunken anger, had thrown acid on her face. She'd left him, Al had told her before they reached the office, but he wouldn't tell her how. He told her she'd gone back and poured boiling oil all over her balls in retaliation to his beating up her children. He'd taken the case, and Sharon had not only taken on her husband, she'd challenged the police force who hadn't helped her at all. She'd left her hometown and travelled all the way to Scottsdale upon his offer to work at his company.

"You haven't asked about the burns," she commented, jolting Nat from her concentration.

Nat thought awhile. "I'm pretty sure you've seen the scar on my neck. But you haven't asked about that."

"Did Al tell you?"

Nat felt she owed the woman the truth. "Enough to keep me from being insensitive."

"So he hasn't told you how I left."

"_Net_. But I wouldn't ask you." And Nat went back to drawing, her hair still slung over one shoulder.

Sharon studied the beginnings of the burn peeking out from above her collar—Al had told her _not_ to wear her usual black/green vest and army trousers—and, being the curious creature she was, she just _had_ to know what was going on.

"You tell me, and I'll tell you. And don't tell me you're not interested."

Nat looked up at Sharon, trying to supress a smile. She dropped her callipers, and thought for a while. "I don't know—I only know what my sister's told me. A burning beam fell on my when I was trapped under another beam. Before it could burn through, my brother saved me."

Sharon looked at Nat awhile. "Alice saved my life," Sharon said. "My kid used to learn how to throw ball from Al. She called Al, who told Alice. And she was the one who gave us the courage to leave…him."

Nat looked at Sharon, and Sharon didn't see what she'd have seen in the eyes of others—there was no pity, no disgust, no empathy. Instead, there was an expression in her eyes which clearly said 'I'm glad you did it'.

Sharon had only seen it in Alice's eyes, and nobody else's.

Nat nodded slightly at Sharon, and went back to drawing, and Sharon just sat there, wondering exactly where this gem had dropped from.

* * *

"Wow, you managed to convince Sharon," Al said when he returned from the hangar, upon seeing Nat carrying the instrument case Sharon usually had with her.

"Wasn't that hard. She looked at my drawings, then herself suggested that I work from home. So she gave it to me."

"You want to go home now?"

Nat nodded, looking at her new case. "_Da_. I've got a lot of work, and I want to get to doing it."

Al made a really cheesy line and decided to pat her lungs out, but the glare was enough to make him blink and hold his hand's trajectory—he knew of the knives under Nat's jacket, and he had the cut on his neck to prove it.

The next few days were busy for them both—Nat holed herself up in the room or apartment, depending on what Al was doing, and did the work in thrice the time Al could've expected from Sharon—and Sharon was one of his best employees. They rarely talked, but as long as Al wasn't yelling at someone, she didn't mind his company. In fact, she _wanted_ his company, not at all understanding _how_ he could live without anybody but himself. If it had been her—and it was her during the third day—she would've gone mad. They began talking slowly, Al bringing up random questions, but more than just that, Nat was growing increasingly curious about what was going on with the deal. Al had offered to take her, but Nat didn't want to feel like a joke, sitting there and not knowing anything. She was happy enough making all the drawings, and at the moment, it was enough for her.

Sometimes he put music on—and it wasn't the junk rock he listened to. Sometimes they were piano rectials, sometimes violin, but all of them were beautiful. And Nat was finally beginning to enjoy his company.

And his music sense.

* * *

"How many more prints?" Al asked, having made the last few calls for the next day's meeting.

"Three," Nat said, not looking up from the blueprints.

"Want to go out for ice-cream?"

"_Net_," she said, continuing to draw.

"I'm not asking."

"Sounded like you were."

"I'm ordering you, as your _employer_, to take a break."

"You're my employer as long as it takes me to finish these prints"—

"Exactly why I'm ordering you around. Come on out—you haven't been out in _ages_."

Nat looked up. "Alfred…"

"Let's go and have ice-cream, Nat. Get out of this apartment."

"You put me here, _mal'chik._"

"Not regretting it, but we'll go out and have ice-cream. And you haven't even been anywhere in Scottsdale. Nat, let's go."

Nat sighed. She'd learnt well enough that Al was a stubborn ass when he wanted to be. "Fine. But I need to get ready."

He looked at her. "Did you have a bath?"

She sighed and got up. "Going, going," she said as she tied her hair up into a bun

When she came out, ten minutes later, she saw Al chucking her clothes into a bag. "What are you doing?"

He looked up at the sound of her voice, and blushed at the sight of her standing there in her towel. But when he saw the scars on her chest, he frowned slightly, and walked to her.

His eyes were an odd combination of curiosity and lust, and Nat felt as vulnerable as ever with her clothes. She knew she could take anyone without weapons, but she'd be better of wearing clothes. The further he approached, the more her stomach flipped until it felt as if there was a tickling vacuum in the place of her tummy. She began feeling slack, hot between her legs, and wanted to scream at him to _stop_, but the shock stopped her, held her there.

He stood before her, ran his fingers over a scar that started from one shoulder, then disappeared underneath her towel. "When did this happen?" he murmured, running his hand over the scars on her upper ar.

"A long time ago," she whispered.

"Who did it?"

"A lot of people," she said. "It was a long time ago."

His lips pressed into a thin line, and Nat watched as he struggled with his temper. His hand was around her wrist, stroking gently, like one would to sooth a wounded animal. "Alfred," she said slowly, "it doesn't matter."

He gripped her hand tightly for a moment. "Do you mind changing while I pack?"

She looked at him and shook her head slowly. He turned around and continued to pack, while she quickly changed into a dark blue tee and a pair of Bermuda shorts.

"Are you done?" he asked.

"_Da_."

He turned, and Nat was impressed by the presence of chivalry in his personality that had made him not peek even once. He walked to her, took her hand, and guided her to the bed. "Sit."

Frowning curiously, she sat down, and waited. When the teeth of the comb touched her scalp, she frowned even further, but Al's gently strokes quickly soothed her. He worked from the bottom, working the snarls out. She sat there, feeling peculiar…it had been _way_ too long since someone had brushed her hair. She leaned back a little, losing herself to the sensations.

He brushed her hair, then braided it up quite efficiently, letting her fringe hang over. Nat turned around, stood up as he picked up the bag. "Let's go."

"What's in the bag?"

"You'll get to know. Coming?

She nodded, and followed him.

They went on his bike—he refused to let her drive—and they got on the road. It was Sunday—there were few vehicles on the road, and it wasn't before long that she could see the sea along the horizon. The evening sun glittered on the face of the sea, and Nat looked at it, mesmerized. It wasn't long before they reached the beach, and, by then, Nat just wanted to go and run into the water.

He looked at Nat's hungry look and chuckled. "Easy, tiger. We're going to go ice-cream binging first."

Nat just shrugged as he slung the bag over one shoulder—clearly, he'd prepared in case they got wet. They walked along the beach and up the rock cropping, reaching the ice-cream parlour. Alfred brought her a Berri Delight, and brought himself a Ray of Sunshine. Nat took it and walked out, and Al was forced to follow.

"Hey! I want to eat inside," Al protested, but she didn't reply—instead, she walked up right to the edge of the sea, and let the water and wet sand trickle between her toes, eating her ice-cream. Al just looked at her quiet profile, with her hair wafting in the breeze, her clothes hugging her body, and something popped in him. He walked slowly to her, eating his icecream and stood quietly beside her.

Nat ate the last of her cone, and ran her sticky fingers in the sea water. Al had already eaten his cone a long time ago, and had been quietly alternating between her and the sea.

"I love the sea," Nat whispered, her voice carried by the evening wind. Around her, everyone talked, life rejoiced and waves crashed, but Al was attuned to her. "When we left Russia, it wasn't a very happy time—even though Ivan had faced hardships in Russia, he knew he wouldn't be cut off from his own people. Still, he decided, because he wanted it to be better for us all. I remember; we'd met sailors for the first time, and unlike what a lot of people said, they were noise. They told us a lot of stories, they taught us songs. My _brats_ can sing—they used to learn the songs, and they'd entertain us by singing. I'd sit with _sestra_ by the side, and we would watch. Even then…I just loved staring into the sea. After my sister's arms, it's the next most comforting thing."

"I don't know about your life in Russia."

"No one does." That she meant truly—she didn't trust anyone with that part of her life. But there was so much of her she didn't know herself—who were her parents? Where had Katyusha and Ivan found her from? She knew nothing about that, and, until then, standing before the sea, she had never seen it necessary to even find out the answers to her questions.

But now…questions haunted her, and when Al turned her to face him, those questions still haunted her, clear in her eyes. And when his mouth touched hers, she closed her and let her torment out into him.

They kissed, fast, hard, needy, like they had never before. She felt like she was being choked by an unseen demon within her, and he was the only lifeline she had. She buried her fingers in his hair, one hand on his chest, dragging him closer. His hand was on her hip, another cradling her head against his. Heat surged, her insides disappeared to leave a vacuum quickly filling up with white-hot heat. She bit, he gasped, she moaned. The noise of their messy kisses reached her ear, even beyond the roar that seemed to fill her brain.

And suddenly they parted, empty and full, looking at each other as if this was the moment they had been made for, with the raging urgency in their eyes.

"I need you _now_, Nat. Please."

His hoarse whisper mirrored her own needs. She grasped his wrist, and began leading him to the parking lot.

She needed him too much than she could imagine.

* * *

Her heart ached.

Literally, considered that the inner chest ached awfully. Nat packed up her bags quickly; there wasn't much she had gotten. Whatever she had gotten, she'd worn. Al had taken her to the closing evening, much like a party, where she'd worn the black dressed she'd gotten with her. They'd dined out the next day, with Al keeping her longer than required. She called up Ivan, told him she still hadn't gotten any evidence for or against him, so she was staying. Ivan had sounded surprisingly subdued, but Nat still feared him, and didn't ask. She didn't call Kat—Ivan would make an excuse for her.

Al had, in those extra two days, taken her all around Scottsdale. They'd gone swimming, boating, biking, and every single thing possible in the span of two days. And the nights…

She couldn't do it anymore.

She wanted him too much to possibly be able to control it, and sometimes it was much too intense for her to even be able to think. She wanted him—that she wouldn't deny. But it was becoming too much for her to continually tell herself that she was doing it for his safety.

By then, she was convinced that Al had no hand in any of it whatsoever—the 'job-well-done' party had proved it. The amount of work people saw Al doing, along with commuting up and down between Scottsdale and W-City made sure he not only had no time for such things, he didn't have time for himself. And, she admitted to herself, she couldn't stay any longer.

"You're going?" Al asked.

"_Da_. I'll go on my own"—

"I'll come with you"—

"It's a half day journey. You don't have the time."

She was right—the Military representatives were quite happy with the sketches Al had produced, and they had begun to negotiate a second contract with the company. The terms were being hammered out, giving Al no person thinking time.

"Mama Alice will understand," Nat said. "I'll go on my own."

"Let me just take my bath. You go after I come out," he said, and Nat remembered she had to reassemble Sharon's case so that Al to give it back to her. She nodded, and began running around the house, taking the instruments from various places in the house, and in the running, she found her rings, a pair of socks, her shampoo and a whole lot of other things that she'd forgotten to pack. Her things were so scattered around that she had to take her bag around and drop her stuff in. and when she was nearly done, the phone began ringing. Ignoring for as long as she could, she hurried faster, with the telephone ringing in monotonous irritation. Growing more irritated, she threw all her clothes in, dumped her bag on the sofa and picked up the phone.

"Boss, it's me, Tash. The bitched is asking about this"—

She slammed the phone down, and looked at the phone as if a monster had emerged and sucked her soul out.

_He knows Tash. Tash knows him_.

Without giving it another thought, she zipped her bag up. She had everything in her bag, and reconfirming it with a cursory glance, she walked to the door, took her helmet and keys, and picked up her shoes. She didn't even bother wearing them—she flung them into her bag, rezipped it and walked right out, not giving herself time to think. There was enough time to think about it in the comfort of her room.

Right now, she felt like a scared deer, and like all scared deer, she wanted to run far, far away.

* * *

**A/T: Biggest chapter no. 1, according to me. The stage is being set, people, for the 1****st**** scene in the 1****st**** chapter, and to my excitement and sorrow, the time to connect the two is going to come very soon. And I think I'm going to cry.**

**I think I am finally, truly coming to like a member of the opposite sex (as opposed to my two day crushes)…and hopefully, he likes me, too. So, I can relate to a bit of what Nat's going through (a tiny bit only). Fingers crossed. **

**Got my test marks today, and for once, I got more in Maths than in Chem…and I got lesser in Chem than expected. But cool. **

**I converted a friend of mine from college into a Hetalian! Sooo happy! She ships Gerita, and I'm introducing her to the world of Hetalia. Now I'm going to gush about Hetalia with her—banzai!**

**And sorry for the late chapter—I had college on Sunday, and a test on Monday for which I hadn't studied for. Now, I'm going to write a Scotland x Fem!France for Scarlett's birthday—wish her a belated happy birthday, people!**

**And Radium's coming back tomorrow!**

**If you liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love, **

**R. K. Iris.**


	38. Chapter 28: And it comes crashing down

**A/T: Sorry for not updating last week, people—I had exams, and I was at the end of my 13-day week, so I just dropped down, exhausted…I love you guys, and I've come to love this story so much…So I'm really sorry for the late update.**

**And as for the number of reviews…I've already fainted shrieking so many times…I love you guys. **

**Well, no time to waste. Onto the next one.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia.**

* * *

My Friend Natalia

Chapter 28

"Nat!"

She got off the Harley, and was genuinely happy to see her family again. She'd brought them something or the other along the way, and no matter how old they grew, her family still loved presents. She'd gotten a new switch for Sonya and Kat, a set of marbles for Ravis, different coloured glass pieces powdered and placed into a clear jar for Toris, and a box of pickles for Eduard. She'd gotten a box of chocolates for Ivan, but she didn't know…her brother wasn't the most approachable person, or at least he hadn't been, the last she'd seen him.

Her brothers began going through their presents, and her sister helped her upstairs, taking one of her bags. Nat didn't reject her help—her mind was too preoccupied for her to assert her independence.

Al knew Tash.

Nat knew, from her time with Alice, that Londoners called each other 'boss' just the way Australians called each other 'mate', and Americans used 'dude'. And Tash's crisp British accent dismissed any thought of how or why he'd used the general endearment, But how would Al know Tash?

Nat knew that Tash and Al played basketball together, which meant that Tash lived in Scottsdale.

She would ask Al, she decided. She'd ask him, and he would tell her. He wasn't involved in any of this.

Right?

There was a knock at the door, and she turned around. She felt his presence before she saw him, and she stiffened involuntarily. But when she looked into his eyes, she was confused. There was none of the sneering hostility she'd expected to see in his eyes, When he walked up to her, she was ready to escape through the window, but when he hugged her, she didn't know what to do. He quietly stroked her hair, holding her close, not saying anything, and it wasn't before long that she tentatively wrapped her arms around him.

"_Izvinite_, Natalia," he whispered over and over again into her hair, patting her back. Her heart stopped, but somehow, she was still alive, and she could still hear him.

"I was wrong, _sestrenka_," he whispered. "I know you're scared of…how I used to be. And I used that against you. That was wrong of me. I am sorry, Natalia."

It took her long to realize what he was saying. He was…sorry? He was apologizing? How…he _never_ apologized. He never backed down. How? Why? She grew more and more confused, and as the frustration built in her, she began feeling her heart beat, her hands convulse, her legs growing restless. She pulled back, and looked at him, with no wall holding back her incredulity and heightened fear in her eyes. It pained Ivan to see it in there, to see what kind of a monster he'd become in her eyes. Chun-Yan had showed him what it was doing to him, doing to his family. They were all that he had, and she had warned him that they would leave the first chance they got. And he needed them too much to let that happen.

"It was wrong of me to have done what I did," Ivan whispered. "I broke my _lichnoye obeshchaniye_, and I got you involved in all of this. I will never do it again, Nat. _Pozhaluysta, prosti menya_."

Nat couldn't say anything. She didn't know what to say, so she did the one thing she could do—listen to her heart and transmit all her love through her strongest and warmest embrace. But, at the same time, her mind urged her to tell him what she'd found out. Her hold on his shirt tightened as the confusion in her mind reappeared—how could she tell him? How could she possibly explain? She buried her head in his neck, searching frantically in her head, but hitting dead ends one after another.

_I can't tell him. I can't tell him._

She couldn't tell him until she knew more. She couldn't even dare try—not only would it jeopardize Al, it would also shatter the new, fragile relationship with her brother. She knew that he would never forgive her if he knew that she had an undeniable attraction towards the elder Bonnefoy brother.

The thing was, she couldn't forgive herself, either.

* * *

"Sharon Redstone speaking."

"Sharon, it's Natalia."

Sharon's face brightened. "Nat! You left without saying goodbye!"

Nat apologized absently, and directly went in for the kill. "Sharon, do you know someone called Arnold Brewster?"

Sharon frowned, twisting the phone cord around her finger. "I've heard of him. Why?"

"There are certain transactions that I want to do…with him."

"Ooh, sounds ominous."

_You have no idea._ "Nothing like that. Do you know where I can find him? Where he lives?"

"Umm…I don't know, really. I mean, Scottsdale's pretty big, but I've heard that quite a few people have seen him around. But I don't know where you'd catch him. The guy's more elusive than one's shadow at noon. But I know someone who might know Tash. Susan Patcherry might know."

"Do you have her number?"

"Yeah…I do…somewhere around here…give me a second."

And with that began the long search for the man who shot her brother.

* * *

Chun-Yan couldn't believe her ears. She was so shocked, so surprised, that when Raj hesitantly asked her what was going on, she could do nothing but whimper.

She quickly left Raj's company, unable to wait to tell Ivan everything she knew. So when she ran into five different people in her hurry, the subsequent noise it created was enough to make Ivan look up with a dangerous glint in his eyes, enough to make even Yuri shudder. But when she burst into the room, they both looked surprised—the calm, composed ice-queen Wang was a thing of the past, in the presence of the flush-cheeked, panting Chun-Yan whose eyes glittered with a manic light.

"I think I shall leave," Yuri quickly excused himself from the room, and fled. Ivan watched as his right hand man left the room due to the presence of his _lyubovnik_, then turned to the aforementioned woman. "Chun-Yan"—

She began speaking so fast and so excitedly, she didn't even know she was speaking in a mandarin dialect, so rapidly that Ivan's knowledge of Chinese was unable to keep up or decipher what she was rattling off at the speed of light. He walked up to her, puzzled and slightly curious as to what she was trying to tell. And when he walked up to her, raised her chin and kissed her full on her lips, she just squealed against his mouth. Taking the chance, he slid his tongue in and proceeded to kiss her until her brain was mush and her until her brain was mush and she couldn't do so much as breathe out his name.

He raised his mouth from hers, running the tip of his tongue over her lips, and whispered, "Where were we? Now, say what you want to, preferably in English."

And all Chun-Yan could say was, "What?"

When she finally managed to gather her wits and bring herself together, she told him every single thing she'd done ever since he'd been wounded. As she spoke, he grew angry at the thought that she would go and meddle the way she had, but the more she talked, the more he grew humbled, and the more he listened, the more he thanked her god and his fate for giving him a woman who could care so deeply and completely, and felt a quiet joy spread through his entire being. And when she finished, he had tears in his eyes. It took him long to calm down, during which she just looked at him, long and patiently.

"So," he finally said, "Raj says that if we go to his hometown, there are people who can cure me."

"There are better doctors who can do the surgery, and the price is more reasonable, aru."

He looked at her. "Will you come with me?"

She grinned. "You won't be able to leave me behind, aru."

Ivan sighed deeply, looked at Chun-Yan with eyes profoundly grateful, shining with unshed tears. "_Da_. Okay. Let's go to India together, Chun-Yan."

* * *

Nat climbed up the scaffolding along the wall of the Bonnefoy house, and slipped inside onto the balcony. She slipped out the key behind the flowerpot, and unlocked the doors that separated the balcony from the room inside. She pushed into the room, and closed the door behind her.

It was as if the absence of people had just heightened Matthew's presence in the room. The room still felt warm, scented by maple wood. She could smell him off the sheets, off the walls, could sense his presence in the silence of the room. Quietly, she sat down on the bed, and leaned back.

_What have I done, Matt_?

She missed his voice, she missed his presence, everything about him. And she'd put herself in such a position that when he'd come back, she wouldn't be able to look him in the eye, the way she had when she'd sent him off. She could explain it to herself, she could even somehow explain it to her brother, but Matt knew her way better than she knew herself. And he would ask, because he deserved to know why, but he wouldn't have an answer.

The thing was, she didn't have an answer, either.

Nat turned to the side, and picked up one of the photographs by the side of his bed. It was the one with Al and Matt, standing side by side, laughing. It was a photograph from not too long ago, and Nat blinked at the photo. The image of Matt's face was faded in her head—his smile was a little less bright, the crinkles around his eyes when he laughed were less fine, his orange-golden halo with the curl that dangled from his hair a little less fiery. She remembered the day when the two of them had used and tried all sorts of methods to uncurl his curl, ranging from cosmetic to utterly painful. They'd finally managed to straighten it, and when Matt had gone to wash the cosmetics out of his hair, it had sprung right back up, full of vitality and infinitely cute curliness.

She knew she loved Matt—it hadn't been sudden, it hadn't come with a bang. It had trickled into her life, with the knowledge that she was most comfortable in her own skin when she was around him. It hadn't been sudden, it hadn't been…it had been the most natural thing in the world, to love him, to care for him, to want him like nothing else in the world.

Then what was she doing being attracted to Alfred Jones Bonnefoy?

She needed him like a drug addict needed her dose. She needed to see him, to hear him, to be there with him. She couldn't get him out of her mind, out of her system, and god knew she didn't want him there. But when he was there, when he was around, she could do nothing other than exactly what he had planned for her. Everything revolved around him, and, for some reason, people actually _helped_ in its revolution. And she hated herself for being one such person.

She was obsessed with him, and she hated herself for it.

The thought suddenly struck her. If Matt found out, he would kill both of them. That she knew with all finality. Did she take his number from Alice, and dare talk to him?

She didn't have the guts to so much as dial out his number on her phone, the pathetic thing she'd become.

With a whimper, she buried her head in the pillow, drinking his strength in, and fell asleep.

* * *

"Where is he, Klaus?"

"I do not know, Koroleva. I haven't seen him for a very long time."

She tapped the arm of her glasses against her full lips thoughtfully. "When was the last time he came to the godown?"

"Two weeks, Koroleva."

She frowned slightly, her blond brows drawing together. She hadn't expected this kind of reaction from Cross—she'd set him behind Natalia Arlovskaya, but she had never thought…but the show had to go on. If Cross had suddenly developed a conscience, it made no difference to her. He was merely a tool, and now, he had turned useless. She no longer needed him.

"Does he know of what I asked of him?"

They both knew she did no asking. She said, it happened, and no one could question. Klaus nodded, then realized she couldn't see him. It was quite disconcerting, since she knew everything that happened there, even though there were two continents and an ocean between them. He wouldn't be too surprised if she knew he'd nodded. "He knows. Arnold told him."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing, as of yet."

"It's been a week since I asked of this."

"I know, Koroleva. I shall find out as soon as I can."

"I want an answer by this afternoon, Klaus,"

"_Da,_ Koroleva."

She cut the call, and he frowned awhile. Cross wasn't interested in all of this anymore. Something had happened, and his ideologies and thinking had changed. The gang had come to realize that, and a few of them had left the gang for white-collared jobs—they all knew that Cross, while he would allow members to leave, would not hesitate in killing his comrades if they broke his trust by being disloyal and joining another gang. But was he being disloyal to his own gang?

Either way, Klaus had to find out what was going on, and he had little doubt that his master wouldn't like it.

Two hours later, his doubt was cemented into fact, and he didn't know how to tell her. But he didn't have a choice.

When he told her, there was silence over the phone. The slight static in the line told him that she was still there on the other end. When she finally spoke, he didn't know whether to be relieved or scared.

"So, you're telling me that he refused to do something like that?"

_"Da_."

"Did you asking him when this change of heart came around?"

"He wouldn't say."

She paused. She hadn't expected it, but it wasn't too surprising, considering everything that had occurred. But she couldn't wait until he'd changed his mind—Cross couldn't use up her time, while time was of the essence.

She exhaled deeply. "Alright. If Cross won't do it, nobody is asking to do anything. _You_ will still continue with this."

"But, Koroleva"—

"I know. You fear that nobody would listen to you, because of you being an outsider. I know. That's why you will take the help of our friend, Tash." The further she thought about it, the easier it was for her to agree with the idea. "Yes, Klaus. Let me speak to the boy."

Klaus conceded, not very happy with the idea. And he went to find Tash.

Tash was on a computer, typing away, his headphones cutting him off from the rest of the world. He flashed Klaus a look as he entered a room, irritating the older man. This…this _thing_ wouldn't have had the money for the computer he was using to hack into databases if it wasn't for Koroleva, who worked through him. Klaus was why this pest even had something to call his own, even if it wasn't true. And the respect he got from _him_…

Klaus brushed it off. Pests weren't worthy of respect—giving it or taking it. Klaus dropped the phone before Tash, and turned to leave.

Tash paused the systems, and took his headphones off. "Look, mister, Cross isn't here."

"I know"—

"He isn't going to be here for quite some time, 'cause he's got other things to manage. Tell your 'Koroleva' to stop calling so many times—he ain't coming back because of some cranky female."

Klaus managed to vanquish the overflow of anger that bubbled through him, but couldn't quite take the murder out of his eyes when he looked at Tash. "She wants to speak to you."

Tash gulped at the look he received, not quite hearing what Klaus said. When he did figure it out, however, he shook his head and blinked at Klaus. "What?"

"She wants to speak to you," he bit out, and walked out of the room. Tash just shook his head, and picked up the phone. "Cross isn't here."

"He doesn't have to be, _ma fille_," she said smoothly. "_You're_ the one I want to talk to."

"Hmm?" he said, surprised. "Me?"

"_Da_," she said. "You see, I want you to do a certain task for me." She continued to speak, and he listened to her with uncharacteristic quietness. Finally, when she was done, he quietly said, "Does Cross know?"

"He does."

"What did he say?"

"He's too much a coward to do it."

Tash winced at her airy, frosty tone. "But it needs to be done," he said, slowly understanding.

"Everything comes at a price."

He thought for a while. Finally, he asked, "How much?"

* * *

"Come with me."

Chun-Yan smiled at Ivan. He finally trusted her, with not just his heart, but with his mind, and his soul as well. It humbled her as much as it exhilarated her. There were no more walls, no more curtains between them.

She put her hand in his, and let him lead her out. "Someone's quite a gentleman, aru."

He turned around and flashed a wicked grin. "Theirs is no such thing as a gentleman, Miss Wang."

He led her out, walking so fast that Chun-Yan had to call out to him twice to make him walk slower. He suddenly stopped, turned around and picked her up, and she yelped in surprise. "Ivan!" she shrieked as he swung her around and finally set her down on the low compound wall. Heat coursed through her, added to the giddiness that made it all more potent and intoxicating. She loved the way he was—he wasn't perfect, but she couldn't have gotten a better person, a better man to love with everything she had. And love him she did, with all her heart and everything that made her.

"_YA lyublyu tebya_," he whispered to her, looking into her eyes with the vivid, intense emotion that filled him.

"_Wo ai ni, tai_," she whispered back. "I will always love you, aru."

He stroked the back of her hand gently, making embers light up in her stomach, in her core. "Kiss me, Chun-Yan."

She leaned down, burying her hands in his. She rested her lips on his, took his tongue into her mouth and kissed him with all her heart. Her body was on fire, her senses filled with him. She pulled, pressed her lips with her own, tilting her head, deepening the kiss. He raised one hand, curled it around her head, his hand rough and warm against her burning face. She groped blindly, grabbed his collar and drew him closer. The heat was so blinding, her senses so overtaut, and she wanted him on her, in her, with her.

He broke the kiss, and she let her breath shudder out whimperingly. Just being with him managed to heat her blood—kissing him killed her mind, and she worked purely on instinct, on need. "Ivan…"

"_YA tak tebya lyublyu_."

She laughed shakily. "I love you too, aru."

He cupped her face, stroked her cheek with his thumb slowly. The tender look in his eyes shook her more than the very heat that his gesture drew out ever could. "Chun-Yan, will you"—

The sound of the Chinese New Year song interrupted him, and she fumbled through her bag out of reflex. She looked up, and he sighed well naturedly. "Take it," he said fondly, still stroking her hand. "I have the rest of my life to ask you."

She had her thumb levitating over the screen when his words stopped her. She turned to him, grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him in for a hard, fast, searing kiss that blew his mind out, then drew back and whispered, "_Shi_," against his hot, wet lips.

He regained his wits, chuckled as she answered the phone. But as soon as he saw her expression change from love to pure fear, he stopped laughing, breathing, and felt icy fingers play over his spine. He quickly took the phone from her, surprised when she allowed him to do so without protest. He held the phone to his ear, bewildered. "Hello?"

It was Yong-Soo who answered him. "Oh, thank goodness, Ivan. Please get elder sister to the restaurant—she won't go home, and the others need her here."

"Im Yong-Soo, what is going on?"

"Somebody set fire to our restaurant."

Right then, something in Ivan died. He cut the call immediately, slipped it into his pocket. He turned to Chun-Yan, saw her shivering violently.

_My sister died in a fire._

He bundled her tightly, picked her up in his arms and walked to the car, a piece of him dying as she silently died herself. He set her in the car, got into it, and drove as fast as he could towards the restaurant. He swung his phone out, dialled Kat, surprised when she picked up the phone immediately. "_Sestra_"—

"Ivan, where are you?"

His sister spoke to him only in Russian, and he quickly changed to his mother tongue. "I'm coming towards Chun-Yan's restaurant. Where"—

"We're all there. Hurry over as fast as you can."

He knew he didn't have the time to question her. He swerved past another car. "As soon as I get there, I want you to get into the car and take care of Chun-Yan. I don't know why you're there, but I want you taking care of her."

"Yes, I will. Ivan, hurry."

He cut the call, driving insanely fast, forgetting about the cosy dinner he'd shared with her, about the proposal for spending the rest of her life with him that he had been planning to set before her, about the large diamond ring, resting in velvet, sitting in his pocket heavily that he had planned on slipping over her ring finger.

He drove up in front of the restaurant, surrounded by people and vehicles, and stopped as close as he could, behind a firetruck so as to obscure her view. He looked at her one final time, and it broke his heart to see her shivering and shaking as if death had already gotten a good grip on her mind and soul, and left the car.

He moved around the firetruck and stopped as the blazing building came into view. It was sickeningly fascinating to watch the place where his love had bloomed burn. He was paralyzed, his mind only taking in the way the fire licked gleefully at the sky, trying to swallow the very moon which had set the mood of romance and love between him and her.

He was going to kill whoever did this. That he knew with absolute surety.

Kat ran up to him, and he was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "Ivan, you're here!" she panted out.

"Chun-Yan's in the car," he said curtly before she could say more. "The car's behind the firetruck. Take care of her." And with that, he walked towards the restaurant.

Ray saw him, walked to him. "Why are you here?" Ivan asked.

"We'd been dining here. We were leaving when there was suddenly an explosion and the whole place caught fire," Ray said, and Ivan felt his heart ice over, even in the face of the blinding heat that seemed to radiate from the restaurant.

Im Yong-Soo ran up to him, but Ivan needed to know something above everything else. "Who's in there?"

"Two children, Mei, Raj, and Toris. They're stuck in the interior, so they haven't been able to remove them like they have the others."

Ivan's mind was working on overdrive, and he moved around the restaurant, committing himself to memory to try and remind himself as to where the side door was—the one he'd used to see Chun-Yan every day. Yong-Soo and Ray followed, and Ivan knew they were both ready to run into the restaurant with him. There was no time to go call someone who could actually do it. Ivan looked at Ray and Yong-Soo—both of them were dressed heavily, and so was Ivan. He nodded, and they nodded back. Ivan took a step back, and kicked the door heavily, twice. The third time, it fell open, and he stepped back as the flames rushed out to greet them. He waited a minute, then rushed inside, followed by Ray and Yong-Soo.

The insides of a coal mine were always warm—it didn't make a difference as to where in the world it was. Ivan knew of the suffocating heat, along with the smell of coal dust and sweat, but this blinding flash was something he didn't think he'd ever get used to. He managed to push it away from his head long enough to navigate around, silently congratulating his comrades in his head for sticking with him.

The smoke was lining his throat, and he decided to call out to see if anyone was there. "Mei! Toris! Raj! Where are you!"

Over the cackle of fire, he heard his brother's feeble yell. Without considering it, he ran towards the sound.

The five people Yong-Soo had informed about were right there—Raj was covering the children's head with a thick jacket, and Mei and Toris were huddled together, choking their lungs out.

Ivan ran to Toris, Yong Soo to Mei, and Ray took the children from Raj. Ivan took off his jacket, draped it over Toris's head, and heaved him up onto his back. "Stay on," he said, and Toris could do nothing but nod, and cough painfully. Ivan spared a glance for his comrades—they were ready.

Together, they ran.

Beams that held the place up were falling down on them now, and one nearly got Raj, who was pulled away by Ray in the nick of time. The smoke was filling their eyes, lining their lungs, clouding their vision and thinking. Out of sheer need and pure instinct, Ivan guided them through, over, and finally, out of the burning piece of hell.

They literally ran into the fire-brigadiers, who took them all away, wrapping them and checking them for burns and injuries. Too much smoke had gotten into Ivan; he couldn't keep himself upright any longer. He stumbled, held steady by a man at his side, and a piece of metal glinted into his eye. Ignoring all calls and all thoughts, he walked towards the shining object, and got down on his knees next to it.

A dog tag. Cross.

As he fainted, he thought, _I will kill all those dogs with the very tags that mark them._

* * *

**A/T: I AM SO FECKING SORRY. THIS SHALL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.**

**Never shall there be another instance where I won't update for so long…but looking at my super-tight schedule, I really, really hope it never happens again.**

**This chapter is a hardcore chapter…I guess all chapters henceforth will be like this. What do you guys think? ;-)**

**It was Scarlett's going to India that got me thinking about Ivan going to India…there is a boom in medical tourism in India, and there's an entire group of people all over the world who come to India just for treatment. Google 'India Medical Tourism' to find out more.**

**I need to be studying now…but I promised myself to get this chappie out, come hell or high water.**

**If you guys liked this even a little, I'll be happy.**

**Love,**

**R. K. Iris.**


End file.
